


Queens In the North

by BecauseBraime



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Braime centric, Canon Through Season 7, Cersei isn't pregnant, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, F/M, Jealousy, Major Character Injury, Pining, The Long Night, but she does go north
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 67,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: Cersei sends her armies north to honor her pledge to fight with the living, but she has ulterior motives. Jaime has his own motives for being there. A certain blue-eyed wench who told him to F loyalty.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Tyrion Lannister & Sansa Stark
Comments: 358
Kudos: 396





	1. A Surprise Army

**Author's Note:**

> This fic involves a good amount of characters (I mean... it's S8 Long Night), but be warned, this is a Braime fic. There will be some difficult (non-Braime) deaths here. Sorry!

**Sansa**

“My lady. The Lannister army has arrived.” Sansa looked up from her desk at Brienne. She offered a look of cool indifference to her sworn sword before looking back to her missive, but inwardly her mind was a sea of emotions. _They actually kept their word? Surely, this is a jape or a trap._

“Let my brother know to assemble the lords and commanders in the hall. I’ll be there shortly.” At Sansa’s words, Brienne bowed and left the room. A slight tremor ran through Sansa’s body at the thought of Cersei being at Winterfell. A distant voice long locked away in the recesses of her mind called out to her. _‘I’m here little dove.’_

Sansa moved to the window and took a deep breath. From her vantage point, she could make out a sea of crimson and gold approaching Winterfell. The approaching army kicked up a swirl of freshly fallen snow. _First dragons. Now lions. Soon dead things. This is all a horrible nightmare._

Sometime later, Sansa made her way down to the hall. Jon, Daenerys, and Tyrion stood outside the doors speaking in hushed tones. They seemed as shocked as Sansa that the Lannisters honored their pledge to fight for the living.

On her approach, Jon smiled anxiously and inclined his head towards the room. “Lets go in and wait for our _guests_.” The volume of the hall was deafening as they entered, but soon fell to a whisper. Nobles and commanders bowed at their entry. The soldiers stood at attention along each side of the hall.

Jon, Daenerys, and Sansa took their seats at the head table in anticipation of the Lannister twins’ entry. Sansa glanced around the hall. Neither Arya nor Bran were there, but she was hardly surprised.

Arya had been spending all her time in the armory or the yards. Bran seemed to have grown into the weirdwood tree at the center of the godswood. To Sansa’s right at one of the tables afforded to their senior most officers sat Brienne.

Her sworn sword’s relationship with Jaime Lannister remained a mystery to her. Brienne had been the only one at Winterfell insistent that Jaime would join them. Not even Tyrion was certain that his brother’s army would arrive. Why the woman held such unshakable faith in the Kingslayer of all people was beyond Sansa’s comprehension.

The door to the hall opened and the Lannister twins entered with their lead commanders and the Mountain at their back. Sansa appraised them for the first time in years. Time had not dulled their beauty. Golden and with an air of superiority, they walked confidently towards the center table and stopped before them.

Daenerys and Jon stood at their entry, but both twins were focused on Tyrion. A small smirk curled at Jaime’s lips, but Cersei only looked disgusted at her youngest brother’s presence.

With a booming voice, Jon welcome them. “Your Grace. Ser Jaime. Thank you for honoring your pledge and coming to aid the living.”

Cersei snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yes, well I had very little desire to leave the warmth of the capital for this wasteland, but the North is one of _my_ kingdoms after all. Is this not about putting aside houses after all? What was it brother? ‘Fuck loyalty’?”

Cersei sneered slightly at Jaime and something passed between the twins that Sansa couldn’t read. She watched as Jaime’s eyes flitted anxiously to Brienne before looking to the ground. Glancing to her sworn sword, Sansa could see Brienne’s ears redden slightly as she quickly looked to her hands.

_Interesting. What is that about?_

Daenerys spoke next from beside Jon. “I assume that you come offering little more than a temporary truce rather than a decision to bend the knee?”

A loud laugh pushed past Cersei’s lips as she appraised the room. “Has your time in this frigid kingdom frozen your last brain cell. I am the queen of Westeros. You are a foreign invader. Why would I bend the knee to you when it is you who should bend the knee to me?”

Sansa bit her lip to keep from laughing. _What is Daenerys thinking? Mayhap she is as mad as her father if she believes Cersei will give up her crown._

At Cersei’s words, Daenerys’ face contorted in rage. A heavy silence fell over the room as the two queens glared at one another. Attempting to ease the tension that had settled over the room, Jon spoke again.

“We have cleared the main inn at Winter Town to accommodate you and your commanders. It is likely safest for you and Queen Daenerys that we don’t all stay under the same roof. Your men are free to setup camp with the other armies just outside the gates. We will serve warm meals within the gates three times per day. Of course, you are welcome to eat here as well.”

Cersei scoffed at the words. “Yes, I’m certain I can trust your cooks to not poison me. We’ve brought our own staff to ensure my meals are kept death free. I know how much some of you enjoy killing Lannisters at feasts.” Cersei glared at Tyrion and Sansa before returning her attention to Jon.

With a slight shrug, Jon smiled falsely to Cersei. “As you wish.” Turning to Jaime, Jon continued. “Ser Jaime, we are holding war councils twice per day in preparation for the dead’s army. You and your men are welcome to attend. Your input would be much appreciated.”

Jaime inclined his head towards Jon, but Cersei was quick to intercede. “By my estimation, I’ve now provided you with a sizable army _and_ the best military commander that Westeros has to offer. I would remind you to keep this in mind when the war against the dead is won.” Looking to her twin, Cersei spoke sarcastically. “Come, brother. I wish to assess this inn we’ve ever so kindly been offered.”

Cersei turned on her heel to leave, but Sansa noticed Jaime hesitate. His eyes flitted again to Brienne before seeking Tyrion out. An unspoken conversation seemed to pass between the brothers with both nodding before Jaime bowed to Jon and Daenerys to leave.

When the Lannister contingent left, Sansa kept her eyes fixed on the doors as she spoke to Jon. “Double the guards. I don’t trust them.”

**Cersei**

Cersei passed through the rooms of the inn at Winter Town. Her nose crinkled in distaste. Turning to her brother, venom dripped from her voice. “Fucking Northerners. I can already feel the fleas biting at my neck in this room. I can’t believe you allowed them to speak to me that way.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about? As I see it, you were insulting them.”

“That foreign bitch asked if I was to bend the knee! You just stood there mutely providing as much value as Ilyn Payne would have!”

Raising his arms in frustration, Jaime looked around the room as though it contained the correct answer. “What would you have me do? Cut off her head there in the hall and start a war?”

Cersei strode confidently towards her twin; chin tilted up in consideration of him. “ _My_ Jaime would never allow some insolent bitch to ask such a thing of me. _Her_ Jaime seems to have lost his cock when he lost his hand.”

The implication was clear, but Cersei expected him to play dumb as he always did where it concerned the cow. _Does he think me blind, stupid, or both? I see how he searchers for her in the crowd._

“Her? What are you on about?”

With a challenging brow, Cersei stood as close to Jaime as possible. She watched his body tense at the proximity. They had not laid together since he returned from the Riverlands to find her wearing the crown. She hardly missed him, but the distance made him more difficult to predict. She had to continuously test his loyalties in other ways.

“The cow. I saw you mooning over her again.”

Cersei did not truly believe that her golden twin could love such a pitiful creature, but the cow’s love for her brother was pathetically obvious. Cersei had watched them closely at the Dragonpit. While Cersei did not believe that Jaime returned the woman’s affections, he did seem to respect her.

That respect worried Cersei. She wanted Jaime’s unwavering loyalty. If he respected another, he might listen to another. _‘Fuck loyalty.’ No, I don’t care for that at all._

Jaime’s jaw clenched in anger. “I was not mooning over anyone. In case you haven’t noticed, there is a war coming. Dead things are marching at us and I’m trying to keep you alive. You’re not helping our cause by making enemies at every turn.”

“Just remember which house you fight for in this war. When the dead are vanquished and the next war upon us, these people will turn on you. Even the cow. What then?” Her hand traced down his chest and she watched his breathing quicken.

She stopped her hand’s trajectory just above Jaime’s breeches. Turning from him, she walked to the table in the corner where she had the attendants set out her wine. “Run along now. See to the men and ensure our victory here. I expect you’ll brief me later.”

Jaime left the room and Cersei moved to the window. She could see Winterfell in the distance. Crimson tents were being erected in the shadows of the castle. Looking to the street below, Cersei could see Jaime emerge from the inn. He was speaking with Addam; several of his top commanders at his heels.

_When did I stop loving him? Was it before or after he lost the hand? He used to look so striking in_ _military mode. Now he looks old and broken. Can he even fight those dead things with one hand? Mayhap I should order him to stay back at my side._

The town on the outskirts of Winterfell was abuzz with activity. Bakers pushed their carts along as soldiers moved to and from the castle. Merchants put out their wares and tried to bait the foreign soldiers into purchasing warm furs.

Bringing the cup of wine to her lips, Cersei considered her larger plan. She would keep up the pretense of honoring this pledge to fight for the living. It would show the kingdoms that _she_ was their protector. Not this foreign whore.

There were of course things that Cersei elected not to disclose to Jaime. Euron had not abandoned her, but rather sailed his fleet across the sea to collect the Golden Company. When the war with the dead was done with, the numbers would be on their side in King’s Landing should such a need arise.

Cersei’s true objective was here at Winterfell. She would let Jaime play nice with the dragon queen’s forces. Cersei would let Jaime, his men, and the dragon queen’s men, think him an ally. Give them a false sense of security and trust. When the war with the dead starts, Cersei would give Jaime his instructions.

His objective would be clear. In the chaos of battle, he would kill Daenerys just as he killed her father. Make it appear little more than a casualty of war. With no one to oppose her, she would see the North bend the knee once the dead things were dealt with.

Should the North refuse, Cersei would call the Golden Company North to deal with whatever forces remained. She would see them all dead. Sansa. The cow. Her traitor brother.


	2. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime checks on his men and speaks with Tyrion before finding himself distracted by Brienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so this is more of a set up chapter before the fun begins. Just need to get in Jaime's and Brienne's head space a bit with some familiar S8 scenes (adjusted slightly).

**Jaime**

Jaime and his commanders made their way towards Winterfell. He wanted to ensure the men were setup well for the conditions and war to come. The ride from Winter Town to Winterfell was short and refreshing. It was a welcome relief to get away from Cersei.

The years had not been kind to Cersei’s psyche. Since she blew up the Sept and consequently drove their last child to take his own life, Jaime found himself unable to tolerate her for extended periods of time. Any love he once felt for her long gone.

In truth, it had been some years since Jaime last felt anything other than kinship for Cersei. A certain trip through the Riverlands with a blue-eyed wench forced Jaime to confront the truth of his relationship with his sister. It was a lust-filled powerplay. Both twins vying for something from the other which they could never obtain. Jaime wanted requited love. Cersei wanted uncontested power.

Dreams that were once filled with green eyes had been consumed with blue eyes for years. Deny it as he might, Jaime couldn’t run from his heart. Loving Brienne from afar was an interminable pain. Loving Brienne within reach was torture.

No matter the pain, there was one thing that Jaime couldn’t handle. Abandoning Brienne in a time of need. When that _thing_ leapt out of the box in the Dragonpit and charged at them, Jaime felt fear. Not fear of death. Jaime was always willing to charge straight at the Stranger himself. His fear was for Brienne. For all those he cared about and loved.

It also stirred something in him that Brienne resurfaced years back in the Riverlands. A desire to be the knight he once was and always wanted to be. Someone whose deeds would fill the White Book and bring something other than shame.

He had two objectives in coming north; doing the right thing for the realm and protecting Brienne. He would protect Brienne to his last breath. If the Gods were kind, they might even let him die in her arms. There was no escaping this enemy. Jaime’s only hope was to protect Brienne well enough that she could get away to safety.

As their horses approached Winterfell, Jaime could see Tyrion near the gates speaking with some of Daenerys’ men. Jaime dismounted his horse and barked some orders at his commanders. “Addam, see to it the men stick to curfew and remain within our encampment. I don’t need them picking fights with the bloody Northerners or the dragon queen’s men.”

Jaime tracked Tyrion’s movement as he continued giving instruction to the men. Following his eyeline, Addam snorted and clapped his shoulder. “I got it. Go on then. See to your brother. Tell him the brothels of the West miss him.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Jaime jogged after Tyrion. The group scowled at Jaime’s approach and alerted Tyrion to his presence. _Ah, yes. My reputation preceeds me._

The group slowly dissipated as Jaime reached them. Tyrion turned to greet his brother; his eyes shining with mischief as always. His little brother’s beard was the bushiest that Jaime had ever seen it. A far cry from the little boy at the Rock who trailed after Jaime; begging to play knights and dragons.

“Tyrion. Good to see you alive and hairier than ever. Are those Northern furs wrapped about your face? Is it napping animal? Can you see me in there?”

Tyrion’s eyes widened in amusement and his brow raised challengingly.

“Ah, my favorite sibling. Good to see you alive as well. I do hope you’ll refrain from charging Queen Daenerys’ dragons while you’re here.”

“I make no promises.” Jaime glanced around as he spoke. The various armies were busy preparing for the war to come. A group of Northmen were digging a large trench. A group of Unsullied in the distance were working on some trebuchets.

To the extreme end of the castle walls, Jaime noticed some knights of the Vale working on a series of spikes which Jaime imagined would serve to slow the enemy’s attack. His mind wandered to the battle to come. Jaime was eager to hear of Jon’s approach and offer his own thoughts.

Tyrion’s voice interrupted Jaime’s thoughts. “Walk with me, brother. I have so much to ask and so little time until out sister gets her claws back into you.”

Jaime sighed at the words but followed Tyrion without question. It seemed that he was forever destined to play middleman to his siblings.

“So, I believe congratulations are in order.” Tyrion raised a brow at Jaime as they walked inside the castle gates. _What? Congratulations?_

“I would thank you, but I hardly know what you’re congratulating me on. I’ve only just arrived. Have I already been named the most handsome man about to die at Winterfell?”

A huff of laughter pushed past Tyrion’s lips. The cold air of the north mingled with his breath, causing a cloud of condensation to form. “Come now brother. You can lie to all of them about it, but not me. The babe…”

Jaime’s brows furrowed in confusion. He squared off his shoulders to face Tyrion and stopped walking. “What babe?”

The returning look from his brother was not one that Jaime was accustomed to seeing. Tyrion looked confused. Lost even. “I thought Cersei was…”

_Ah. I see._

“Oh, she might be. I certainly wouldn’t know.”

An inquisitive look reached Tyrion’s eyes. He didn’t need to ask the question for Jaime to know what Tyrion was on about. “I haven’t _been_ with her in years, Tyrion. If she is, it isn’t mine. She certainly doesn’t look it. She also drinks enough to kill off anything trying to take root in her.”

Tyrion’s confusion gave way to shock. “Oh. Apologies. I just assumed… never mind. I’m glad you’re here. I have to be honest, I did _not_ expect it. None of us did.” They continued walking through the courtyard and up the stairs to the battlements.

“Well I thank you for the vote of confidence. I’m glad to know that not one among you thought enough of me to think that I would keep to my word.”

Jaime felt his spirits drop. _Did Brienne not believe in me? I thought she at least would have trusted in my word._

“Well, no I suppose one person thought you would come. Sansa’s sworn sword. Tall, blonde, scowls all the time. I think you know her.”

“Lady Brienne? She said I would come?” Jaime’s eyes went wide in a mix of hope and surprise.

“Yes, that’s the one. Although I was surprised that the Mountain didn’t lop off her head in the Dragonpit. Gods, the look on Cersei’s face when Lady Brienne yelled at you.” Tyrion chuckled to himself, but Jaime had already tuned him out. 

Jaime felt his lips pull into a smile. His flesh hand clenched and unclenched, itching to grab the hilt of his sword. The twin sword to hers. They reached the top of the stairs and looked out at the interior walls of Winterfell. Like Winter Town, it was buzzing with activity.

Men on adjacent walls glared at them and spat in their direction. Tyrion snorted at Jaime’s side and sighed. “Nothing like a warm welcome from the North. I had imagined my death many times in life. I never thought it would be like this. On the bright side, I won’t have to worry about the many ways our sister would like to kill me off. We’ll die here together. I wonder… when we’re overrun by death, do you think Cersei and I will still try to kill one another as wights? I had always…”

Tyrion kept rambling, but something on the other side of the battlements caught Jaime’s attention. _Her_ voice. _Brienne_.

Walking away from Tyrion, Jaime came to stand at the opposite wall. There, down in the yards, was Brienne. A small group of soldiers who appeared to be under her care were drilling as she watched on and gave orders. Somewhere in the recesses of Jaime’s mind, he knew that he was staring, but he could hardly help himself.

His face went soft as he looked towards her. Unbeknownst to him, Tyrion had noted his absence and turned to watch him. A curious expression passed over Tyrion’s features as he followed Jaime’s eyeline. In slight disbelief, he looked back to Jaime, leaning forward slightly over the battlements to really see him.

Again, Tyrion looked down towards the yards before speaking. “Fuck loyalty… among other things I suppose.”

“What? Did you say something?”

Jaime looked to Tyrion in confusion. Before Tyrion answered, Jaime heard Brienne’s voice calling out commands again. He felt the all too familiar pull to go to her. Without another word, Jaime clapped his brother on the shoulder. “I’ll speak with you later. I need get going.”

Moving quickly back down the stairs, Jaime made his way to the yards. The area outside the gates was even busier than before and Jaime had to step back to avoid being hit by lumber being hauled by. To his right, Addam and Bronn were yelling to get his attention, but he waved them off.

_First the wench. Then the men._

**Brienne**

Brienne stamped her feet to keep warm as the snow-covered grounds dampened her boots and numbed her toes. She looked on at Pod and groaned in frustration. He had come a long way, but his left side was still sloppy.

“Reset Podrick. Keep that left side covered.” With a deep sigh, she planted her feet and watched him take another crack at it. Someone approached at her side and drew her attention from the match. Turning slightly, Brienne saw Jaime approach.

With a slight bow of his head, Jaime offered a small smile. “Lady Brienne.”

“Ser Jaime.”

Turning back to Pod, Brienne watched with pride as he bested his opponent again. His left side looked better than it had previously. A subtle movement to her right reminded Brienne that Jaime was still there and incredibly close. His shoulder brushed against hers slightly and sent a warmth through her body.

At her side, Jaime’s voice drifted through the crisp air. “He’s come along way.”

Brienne glanced to Jaime and saw his eyes fixed on Pod. Just over his shoulder, Brienne could see that dreadful sellsword of Jaime’s and another Lannister man looking towards them and laughing.

_Oh. So, he’s come to mock me. How wonderful._

Brienne replied to his comment before walking off, praying to the Seven that Jaime would leave her be. “Well he still has a ways to go.”

No such luck. Jaime was moving quickly after her. “Well I’m sure you’ll teach him. Are these your men? Where will you be fighting?”

With a heavy sigh, Brienne stopped walking and turned towards him. “Shouldn’t you be with your men?”

Jaime chuckled and shrugged. Puffs of air pushed past his lips and formed a small cloud. “I’ll see to them soon. You didn’t answer my question though.”

“Why? Do you mean to mock me about it? If they gave me some men to command that is. Silly thought really. A woman pretending at a knight leading some men.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide and he put up his hands in defense. “You think I’m trying to insult you?”

“Isn’t it what you always do?”

Jaime recoiled as if slapped. His eyes narrowed at her. “You want me to insult you?”

“No!” Brienne didn’t intend to sound as harsh as she did, but she was tired of being made to feel like a fool. For a fortnight she was mocked by the Northerners for defending Jaime. She insisted that he pledged to fight with them, and he would honor his promise.

Then she was given command of a small group to be stationed on the left flank. The flank that no one wanted as it was offered little protection from the elements and it was the first point of defense from the anticipated direction of the enemy’s approach. It was a death sentence, but Daenerys didn’t want to put her men there.

When none of the commanders from the North or the Vale volunteered, Brienne did. _What difference does it make? I’m just a sword. No one will miss me if I fall. These other men have families and loved ones._ _I’ll do my part._

Jaime’s reply was equally harsh. His tone laced with irritation. “Good!”

They both glared at each other for a moment, before Jaime’s shoulder sagged and he looked away. Taking a deep breath, Jaime looked back at her and shrugged. “I just wanted to speak with you. I think you and my brother might be the only two people here who don’t wish to see me eaten by a dragon. Well, mayhap you would enjoy that. The last two times we’ve spoken, all you’ve done is yell at me.”

Brienne scoffed and tried to deny it, but his words were true. Stammering for a reply, she watched as a smirk spread across Jaime’s face. It only served to vex her more and she grunted in irritation; her face reddening slightly.

Jaime’s face softened and he looked to her expectantly. “So, did they tell you where you would be.”

Glancing to her left, Brienne pointed off in the distance. “Outer left flank. Just a small group of us.”

Following the path of her finger, Jaime’s brows knitted in confusion. “That’s the middle of fucking nowhere. You’re just out in the open. What direction is the enemy approaching from.”

Brienne huffed a laugh and again pointed in the same direction. A slight rage flashed across Jaime’s face. “Why you?”

_Oh, yes. Here we go. Why big Brienne? Why not someone capable? Why not a skilled leader?_

A bitter laugh pushed past Brienne’s lips. “Well it would make little sense to put someone who isn’t expendable out there.”

“You’re not expendable!” Jaime’s tone was harsh, taking Brienne by surprise. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. “How could Sansa let them station you there?”

“I think Lady Sansa has far more important things to worry about than where I stand when the enemy arrives.”

Shaking his head in irritation, Jaime met Brienne’s eyes. “We’ll fight with your group.”

“That might be your worst idea yet. Here I thought your keen military mind would aid our cause.” Brienne’s tone aimed for teasing, but it came out more accusatory.

Jaime faced her fully and tilted his head. He huffed in irritation before speaking and his face reddened to mirror her own. “In my army, we don’t leave groups of men in position to be slaughtered. I aim to improve these ridiculous battle plans that your dolt king and his dragon queen developed. If they won’t listen, I will not sit back and watch you sit out there on the edge of a battlefield with no defense as literal death charges at you.”

Brienne flinched at the resolve in his words. _Why does he care? Someone must be the first line of defense. Why not put your least valuable out front._

Jaime closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When are these ridiculous meetings anyway?”

“The first is in the morning after everyone breaks their fast. The second is before supper.” Brienne watched as he appraised the skies as if trying to figure out when the next meeting was.

“Good. I have much to discuss with your fearless leaders who apparently have never planned a proper battle before. Are you eating here then? For supper that is.”

_Where else would I eat? Tarth?_

“Yes, that tends to be the way of it.” Brienne’s tone dripped with sarcasm and Jaime smirked slightly at her.

“We’ll join you then.”

“I though you brought your own staff?”

Jaime chuckled and shook his head. “Cersei brought her own staff. Her own wine barrels. Probably her own linens. I’d rather not waste time going back and forth. Besides, I’ve already had to endure her the entire way here. She has an entire room full of attendants to bother now.”

_Endure her?_

Brienne looked to Jaime in confusion and shook her head. “Well, I better get back.”

“Right. I’ll come find you for the council meeting then? I don’t want to get lost and end up staring at Ned Stark’s dour face in the crypts for the rest of my days.”

Nodding slightly, Brienne walked back to where Pod was still training. She replayed the conversation in her head. Jaime’s words made little sense and she wondered what was going on between him and Cersei. _It’s almost as though he doesn’t want to be near her._


	3. Battle Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finds out the plans for battle and has much to add.

**Tyrion**

Tyrion stood between Daenerys and Sansa as they huddled around the map of Winterfell in the war council. Jon and Arya stood beside Sansa. Varys, Jorah, and Grey Worm stood beside Daenerys. Other commanders from the North, the Vale, the Unsullied, and Dothraki stood around the table.

A subdued atmosphere hung heavy in the room at the news from the northeast. Tormund and his party had just returned to Winterfell before the council gathered with dire news from Last Hearth.

Tyrion sighed and looked to the map. It had been a long day made longer by his siblings’ arrival. Almost immediately after Jaime and Cersei departed towards Winter Town, the question had begun.

_Can we trust them? Do they have ulterior motives? Did they truly bring all their men?_

It had not occurred to Tyrion how to answer these questions because it had not occurred to Tyrion that his siblings would actually show up. Only Brienne of Tarth had been adamant that Jaime Lannister would keep his word. _Not even I trusted my siblings to honor their pledge._

The doors to the small council room swung open to reveal the very pair in question. Brienne and Jaime walked into the room with Addam and Bronn at their back. Moving quickly to Sansa’s side, Brienne muttered her apology at being tardy.

“Apologies my lady. The Lannister army was not familiar with where we meet.” Tyrion glanced to his former wife and watched her eyes narrow suspiciously at Jaime. Sansa’s stare was icy and her face an unreadable mask. “Just don’t forget which side you fight for.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide and her jaw slackened, but it was Jaime who spoke sternly. “The _living_ side, I believe. I highly doubt assisting an ally to find the war room is ground for accusation of disloyalty. No need to get so dramatic, Lady Sansa.”

Bronn and Addam snorted at Jaime’s side and Tyrion silently implored his brother to control the bite that often accompanied his words. Of course, Jaime had the right of it. Tyrion hardly understood why Sansa reacted so harshly to her sworn sword, but he imagined much of it was due to anxiety at Cersei’s presence.

_I’ll need to speak with Sansa of this later. I don’t want to see her turn allies against her. She’s already gotten off to a most unfortunate start with Daenerys. A woman who comes to aid the North._

As they were about to begin, the doors again opened to reveal Cersei and the Mountain; a glass of wine held tightly in his sister’s hand. Cersei’s eyes scanned the room. Her nose crinkled in distaste. “Ugh, this room. So dark. Don’t you people have windows in this castle?”

_Dear Gods no. Who let her in?_

Tyrion looked to Jaime and saw his brother’s jaw slack with surprise. Looking to Addam and Bronn, Jaime spoke curtly to Cersei. “What are you doing here? This is a war council meeting.”

With a snort, Cersei looked to him as though the answer obvious. “I do believe the queen of the Seven Kingdoms has the right to know what the battle plans are.”

Tyrion observed the discomfort in his brother’s stature. “We discussed that I would brief you later.”

Cersei took a sip of her wine and stood beside Addam; a hint of amusement in her eyes. “What? Don’t tell me only soldiers are allowed here. I highly doubt these people plan to lift a sword.” Cersei gestured to Varys, Daenerys, Tyrion, and Sansa. Then she glanced at Brienne and scoffed. “I see that even livestock are allowed in. Surely, the queen can hear of these _grand_ planes.”

An unspoken apology was passed from Jaime to Brienne, but Sansa’s sworn sword did not receive it. Brienne was too busy staring at the floor. Her face reddening form either embarrassment or anger; Tyrion could not tell which.

_I should have killed Cersei with the crossbow instead of father._

With a heavy sigh, Tyrion looked to Daenerys and shook his head. He silently implored her to carry on and ignore Cersei’s nonsense.

“If you’re about done, we have much to discuss.” Daenerys’ tone was cold and commanding. The officers began giving updates on progress of battle preparations. Tormund indicated that the dead were days out from Winterfell. He then shared with the Lannister contingent what had happened at Last Hearth.

Jon reminded the group of the plan, but it wasn’t long before Jaime interrupted. His tone was incredulous as he looked around the table. “I’m sorry, but you’re just going to sit here and wait for the dead to arrive?”

Glancing around the table for support, Jon turned to Jaime. His tone was more a question than a response. “Of course. What else would we do?”

Jaime turned momentarily to Addam and Bronn before addressing the room. “You said fire kills them, correct?”

With a slow nod, Jon confirmed the statement. “Yes, what of it?”

“You have two dragons. Why not cut through the Night King’s ranks before they get here? Winterfell should be our _last_ stand. Not our _first_. Better to deplete their numbers before we face them at the gates. How many are there?”

Tyrion looked to Jon and watched the young man’s brows furrow in consideration. “Roughly 100,000.”

Jaime shook his head in disbelief. His brows knitted together as he sucked in a deep breath. “Are you insane? You truly think our combined forces can withstand an army of dead things totally 100,000? We’ll be slaughtered. As I said, this should be our last stand. Cut through their lines and take out as many as you can from the sky. If we can halve their number by the time they arrive, we’ll be in better position to fight them off. We can send out groups to intercede any scattering parties from the attacks from the sky. Do they demonstrate any strategic thinking?”

_Thank the Gods my brother is here. Why hadn’t we thought of this?_

Looking around the room, Tyrion saw no one move to answer. Eventually Jon spoke. “It’s difficult to say. The wights themselves seem mindless. Their only objective to kill anything in their path. Their generals and the Night King seem more methodical. The Night King has demonstrated some strategic thinking. He killed one of Queen Daenerys’ dragons before we met with you in King’s Landing.”

Cersei snorted from the other side of the table and looked to Jaime with a raised brow. “I told you. They’ll probably lose another before the dead get here.”

Ignoring Cersei, Jaime questioned Jon further. “How did he manage that?”

Before Jon could answer, Daenerys spoke somberly. “With a spear. The dragons don’t see ground threats well. They rely on a rider to anticipate threats from small objects below, but I was with Drogon.”

“Drogon?”

At Jaime’s question, Daenerys’ lips curled in disdain. “The one you charged on a horse.”

Jaime and Bronn chuckled lightly as the rest of the room gaped at him. “Ah, yes. Drogon. Lovely fellow. How could I forget.”

Noticing Daenerys’ patience with his brother wearing thin, Tyrion spoke quickly. “With Jon now riding Rhaegal, both dragons will be better equipped to handle a similar attack. Do you think this plan could work?”

An unspoken conversation passed between Jon and Daenerys. Jon’s brow raised and he looked to the room. “It’s a good plan. I agree with Ser Jaime’s approach. We’ll begin the attacks on the morrow. I’ll divide our forces to handle any breakaway groups from the Night King’s army.”

Again, Cersei interrupted the meeting. Her wine sloshed from the cup as she gestured dramatically. “Well. Lucky for all of you that we showed up. Gods. What a waste.”

Fortunately, everyone ignored her and continued discussing preparation for when the dead _did_ reach Winterfell. Tyrion looked to his siblings and spoke commandingly. “When the battle begins, anyone not fighting will take refuge in the crypts. Until then, Cersei, you will be safest at Winter Town.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed as he appraised the room. “The crypts? You’re planning to put everyone incapable of fighting in the crypts?”

“Yes. What is the problem now, brother?” Tyrion raised a challenging brow and awaited Jaime’s reply. The room looked to Jaime expectantly as another silence hung over the room.

“You said the Night King can raise the dead, so you plan to put the non-fighters in the crypts… with the dead Starks.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Cersei’s lips. Her tone took on a teasing lilt. “Tyrion, was this your idea? Do you forget yourself? Jaime is supposed to be the stupidest Lannister and here he is outsmarting you _again_. First at the Rock and now Winterfell.”

“It was my idea.” Jon spoke sternly from Tryion’s side.

Cersei smirked at Jon and looked to Jaime. Her tone teasing. “Well then brother, you may still be the stupidest Lannister, but apparently that still makes you smarter than the rest of Westeros.”

The tension in the room was high. Even Jaime, Bronn, and Addam looked irritated at Cersei’s continued interruptions and unhelpful comments. It was Jaime who broke the uncomfortable silence. “You won’t find these decisions so amusing if they cost you your life. Now if you are done, we have more to go through here.”

A murderous glare passed between Tyrion’s siblings. It wasn’t until Cersei took a sip of her wine and shrugged that Tyrion realized he had been holding his breath. _Jaime did not lie. There is nothing left between them._

Jon spoke to the remaining preparations and asked Jaime for his thoughts. It was a productive discussion with no additional interruption from Cersei. By the time they were through, Tyrion felt much better about their odds. An incredible gratitude for his brother’s presence and council washed over him.

“One other thing.” At Jaime’s words, all eyes landed on him. “The position of the men for when the dead arrive. I don’t like the layout.”

Jon’s brows furrowed in confusion. “How so?”

“The left flank is too far removed from the castle walls. They should be closer and angled differently to avoid being overrun. You’ve left them there to be slaughtered.”

Tyrion looked to Jon and assessed his reaction. With a finger extended towards the map, Jon explained his approach. “Yes, they are far from the castle walls, but that is only because we’ve moved the middle and right flank over. The dead won’t attack from the east, so we shifted everyone down to protect the main gates.”

Leaning onto the table, Jaime met Jon’s eyes. “And in the process, you’ve left an entire group of people unprotected from the elements and the incoming threat. I understand shifting the middle and right flank down, bur rather than keep a straight line, you should wrap the left flank around the castle edge. More like an ‘L’ shape rather than this ‘U’ shape. They can better guard the battlements from siege while not being exposed. The Night King’s army is approaching from that very direction. You should face the flanks accordingly. Not leave one flank taking the hit head on.”

Jon sighed at the words. “I know it’s a risk and I appreciate those who volunteered, but we need to keep most of the forces in front of the walls spanning the Godswood. The formation you recommend won’t work. My brother believes the Night King will come for him, so we need ample protection.”

“Your brother?” Jaime’s brows furrowed in confusion at Jon’s words.

“Yes, Bran.”

**Jaime**

_By the gods. The boy is alive._

Glancing to Cersei, Jaime saw her flinch at the name. Taking a deep breath, Jaime tried to understand the rationale.

“Why would the Night King come for him?”

Jon attempted to explain what Bran had become, but it only served to confuse Jaime more.

_Three-eyed what? Visions? Marked by the Night King?_

Jaime shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why leave Lord Bran in the middle of the godswood then? We have a better chance of protecting him if our entire army surrounds him.”

Before Jon could answer, Sansa spoke up. “He needs to remain by the weirdwood tree. It is how he _sees_ things.”

_What is there to see? Death marching at us?_

“Fine, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve left an entire section out there to die. _Your_ sworn sword among them! You can keep the middle and right flanks at the south facing walls to protect the godswood and main gate, but at least wrap the left flank around the castle wall on the other side. Give them a proper chance at survival and defense.”

Jon sighed and glanced at Brienne. “We didn’t force anyone there. We only took volunteers. Given our numbers, we didn’t have time to build a trench along the western walls. It made more sense to maintain a straight line and the left flank can still fall back in time.”

Jaime looked to the commanders in the room. “Of course. And the only one among you brave enough and honorable enough to take the position isn’t even a military commander nor knight in name; although certainly a knight in action. My men and I will stand with Lady Brienne’s group. We don’t leave our allies to die.”

“What!?” Cersei’s voice was devoid of any amusement for the first time since the meeting began. She slammed her cup on the table and looked to Jaime. Her eyes were like wildfire and her fists balled at her sides.

Jaime held Cersei’s gaze. His tone was challenging. “I said, our men will stand with the left flank. We’ll build a trench along the western walls of the castle and angle towards the enemy _properly_.”

“You will not sacrifice our men…”

“He won’t.” Daenerys interrupted Cersei and glanced around the room. “When we made these plans, I recognized the danger the left flank faced, but we had little other option. With the added forces that you have brought, we have time and manpower to build another trench along the western walls. I will have my men help build the trench with yours. We will then assign our forces among each flank to ensure a more equitable distribution.”

Jaime was surprised at Daenerys words, but appreciative of the agreement to revise the plan. He glanced to Brienne whose eyes were wide with hope. _She truly though herself dead in this war._

Smiling inwardly, Jaime looked back to his sister with a raised brow. “Any other objections _your Grace?_ ”

Cersei glowered at Jaime but had little else to say on the matter. As the meeting adjourned, Jaime gave Addam instruction to take to their men. They would begin digging a trench on the morrow along the western walls of the castle. As Bronn and Addam exited the room, Cersei approached.

“You fool. You almost cost me an army! Don’t you ever make a decision that could cost our side again.” With that, Cersei stormed off; the Mountain at her heels. Jaime took a deep breath and looked back towards the larger group which lingered around the table.

Jaime approached Brienne as Sansa dismissed her. He smiled widely and caught her eye. “Well I hope my ideas weren’t as shit as you accused my last idea of being.”

With a snort, Brienne looked back to the Starks who were still speaking with Daenerys. “Thank you for aiding us. I don’t think our odds would be as strong otherwise.”

Before Jaime could reply, the giant redheaded man who spoke earlier in the meeting rounded the table and approached. “My warrior woman!”

_Excuse me? Who the fuck is this?_

Jaime looked to Brienne and watched as her face reddened. Brienne’s eyes darted away awkwardly and she visibly stiffened. “Hello Tormund. I’m glad to see you survived Last Hearth.”

The wildling stood like a dog awaiting a bone from the kitchen staff. “Are you headed to the hall for supper?”

Not liking where this was going, Jaime stepped closer. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jaime. You are?” As though only just seeing him, the wilding’s head moved back in surprise. His body squared off territorially.

“Name’s Giantsbane. How do you know my woman?”

“Your woman?” Jaime glanced towards Brienne’s. _Surely, he jests. What is this man to Brienne?_

Brienne’s voice was warning, and Jaime could sense her discomfort. “Tormund, I am _not_ your woman.”

The wildling turned his attention back to Brienne. He looked at her lecherously and a protectiveness stirred deep in Jaime’s core. _I might use this man as a human shield in the battle to come if he doesn’t back away._

Again ignoring Jaime’s presence, the wildling spoke in suggestive tones. “Not yet. I was thinking that after…”

Jaime immediately cut off the man’s words; unable to take another moment of his overt lust for Brienne. “Maybe don’t think. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself before the dead arrive. Lady Brienne, could you show me to the dining hall?”

With a slight nod, Brienne bid goodbye to Tormund and moved towards the door. Jaime followed her into the hallway and glanced back to ensure the wilding hadn’t followed. “What was that?”

Brienne sighed and rolled her eyes. “That was Tormund. I find it best to ignore him.”

“Well he is hardly ignoring you. You should run him through with your sword.”

The look Brienne offered Jaime made it clear that the idea was ill-advised. “He is a fierce fighter and commands the wildlings. We need him in this war.”

The way Brienne defended the man was irksome to Jaime. Having spent many years watching Cersei flaunt herself at court, Jaime was no strange to jealousy. This felt different though. With Cersei, Jaime didn’t want another man’s hands on his sister. With Brienne, Jaime didn’t want another man’s heart with _his_ Brienne. _She should only hold mine._

“And _after_ the war? Will you allow that beast of a man to call you _his woman_?”

Brienne’s jaw clenched and she stopped walking. “Why should it matter to you what he calls me? I suppose you find it amusing that a ‘beast of a man’ would take interest in someone like me.”

“I find nothing amusing about it. The way he was looking at you was highly indecent. You’re a highborn lady and you should be spoken to with respect.”

Brienne huffed a laugh and shook her head. “No one sees me as such, so certainly no one would care how I’m spoken to or looked at. It matters little to me. We need him to win this war. So long as he aids our cause, I care little for it.”

As Brienne moved to continue walking, Jaime grabbed her arm. Her eyes looked to his hand in confusion before meeting his eyes. Jaime’s voice was serious and for her ears only. “I see you. You deserve respect as a knight and as a noble lady.”

A heavy silence fell over them as Brienne’s cheeks flushed slightly. Her eyes darted anxiously down the hallway from which they came before meeting Jaime’s gaze. “I’ll show you to the hall. Then I better get back.”


	4. Building Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa receives a visitor to her room who challenges her. She then makes some observations of her own and has a chat with Brienne.

**Sansa**

Sansa sat by the fire in her room and looked to the door as it opened. From the tentative knock on the other side, she had expected to see Brienne. Her sworn sword had been on her mind of late. The woman’s loyalty had never been something that Sansa questioned since her rescue from Ramsay, but Brienne’s relationship with the Kingslayer was worrisome at best.

From the moment Sansa met Brienne, it was obvious that some relationship existed between Brienne and Jaime. Aside from the sword and sword belt which reeked of all things Lannister, the woman never tried to hide the origins of her acquaintance with the Kingslayer. Brienne was adamant that the he was honorable and trustworthy despite a reputation that said otherwise.

Brienne, however, was not a strong communicator. She shied away from words and let her sword speak for her. As such, it was difficult to ascertain why Brienne was such a strong advocate for the younger Lannister twin..

Not only was Sansa’s sworn sword as quiet as Ilyn Payne, but Brienne was awkward and shy. Brienne did not strike Sansa as someone who made friends easily. It was obvious that the woman had little in the way of personal attachments.

For Sansa, it was ideal. One of many lessons learned over the years was how little she could trust in anyone who wasn’t family. As result, she would never have taken a sworn sword with potentially conflicting loyalties. This made Brienne a trustworthy shield. Thinking on it, Sansa almost felt bad at how little she knew of her sworn sword.

Seeing Brienne’s connection to and faith in the Kingslayer was troublesome though. Old fears bubbled to the surface. _Would she turn on me for him? Can she be trusted still? Can I truly trust anyone who isn’t kin?_

Reflecting on her interactions with Brienne of late, Sansa wondered if perhaps she had been unfair. Too harsh. _I suppose she was correct in her belief that the Lannisters would keep to their word; or at least, that the Kingslayer would._

Looking to the door, Sansa was surprised to see Tyrion enter. “Lady Sansa. Might I have a moment?”

With a subtle nod of the head, Tyrion shut the door and took a seat across from her. He appraised the room and hummed slightly. A smile tugged at his lips. “You’ve done well for yourself here. I’m glad of it.”

“It seems you’ve fared just as well. What can I do for you?”

Sansa studied her former husband. He was a good man and she respected his intelligence if not his lineage. The years had not been kind to Tyrion, however. Judging from the dark lines under his eyes and worry lines across his forehead, the man lacked both rest and relaxation.

“I wanted to discuss something that I’ve observed. I recognize you’ve not had it easy in life. I dare say, you’ve been challenged in ways that no one your age should have experienced in a lifetime. Your family has met the Stranger well before their time and you have few living kin left. That is why I’m here. I have seen your hesitance to trust Daenerys. I even see cracks in your trust of Lady Brienne. I worry that you will drive away any ally that isn’t kin until you have no one left.”

Sansa’s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. It amazed her how easily Tyrion read her. _Can others assess me so well? I thought my mask unreadable and my worries well hidden._

“I’ve learned much in my years. One important lesson is how little I can rely on anyone who isn’t family. The world has too many people with self-serving interests. If you haven’t noticed, I’m also surrounded by enemies in my own home; your sister among them. You can hardly deny me such logical worries.”

With a heavy sigh, Tyrion stroked at his beard. “And what of me then? My own father and sister meant to take my head. Not even kin can be trusted then, so by your logic, I should be alone.” A bitter laugh pushed past his lips. “The only person to show me genuine care in my entire life, aligns himself with Cersei for that matter.”

Sansa’s brows furrowed slightly at his words. _Surely, he can’t mean his brother._

Meeting her eyes, Tyrion huffed a laugh. “Yes, Sansa. The evil Kingslayer has a heart. He cared for a monstrous creature such as I. Were it not for Jaime, I would not have survived my childhood. I understand your hesitance to trust him, but your sworn sword does, and she hardly strikes me the type to ally with unworthy people. She seems a good woman.”

“She has a friendship of sorts with your brother. A man whose lover is my worst enemy. Do you truly not see how that is problematic?”

“ _Former_ lover. Well… I’m not even certain that he would ever have called Cersei that _now_. I don’t know why he still stands by her. Kinship I suppose… much like your own limited extensions of trust.”

Sansa scoffed and looked to the fire. “Please, forgive my disbelief on the matter.”

“The only proof you need is in his eyes. Watch him with your sworn sword. It is _quite_ revealing.” A mischievous smile tugged at Tyrion’s lips. For a moment, he looked more his age. A shadow of memories from their time together in King’s Landing played out in Sansa’s mind.

_His brother and Brienne? No. He jests._

Sansa studied Tyrion as he looked to the fire. His brows raised in shock at his own words. Without looking to her, he continued speaking. “The dragonpit. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it then. Surely, there must have been something when they returned from the Riverlands too. Do you know how she feels for him?”

“What? What are you even on about, Tyrion?”

Tyrion shook his head as though coming out of a fog. “Never mind. I’ll leave you be. I just wanted to come by and implore you to try and trust people other than your kin. Westeros is too large to rely solely on three people to survive. Jon trusts Daenerys. I trust Daenerys. I trust Jaime. Brienne trusts Jaime. No one trusts Cersei… she’s still a vile woman. Don’t trust her.”

With that, Tyrion stood from his seat and left. He offered a final smile before closing the door behind him. Sansa sighed and looked to the fire. _Mayhap he has the right of it. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to hear Jon out about Daenerys. I suppose I can try to trust the Kingslayer. Brienne has given me little cause for worry. He did offer sound advice on the war to come. He did seems willing to put himself in harms way on the field._

After breaking her fast, Sansa wandered into the yards. She was curious to see the progress on the trenches along the western walls. She was surprised to see the Kingslayer working alongside his men, digging the massive trench. It was unlike anything she had expected to see from a Lannister. Neither Tywin nor Cersei would dare work alongside foot soldiers or commoners like that.

As she moved closer, she could see that he was teasing someone to his right. A wide smile on his face as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Standing and tossing a pile of dirt over her head, was Brienne. With an exaggerated eye roll, her face reddened in irritation and she spat back at him.

Sansa halted her progress and moved closer to the wall so as not to be seen. A fond smile spread over Jaime’s face as Brienne went back to scooping more dirt from the earth. As his chuckling died down, a softness set in his eyes as he watched Brienne.

_Seven help me. Did Tyrion speak truth?_

Again, Brienne threw more dirt over her shoulders and began to reprimand Jaime’s lack of progress on his section. He chuckled and needled her further. “I have one hand! I can only haul half the amount of dirt that you can.” In jest, Jaime flicked some of her freshly scooped dirt back onto her.

Standing upright in a fury, Brienne began to scold him before a familiar voice drifted through the air. It was a voice that even Sansa had come to dread. Tormund.

_Gods. Not this again._

Sansa truly felt for Brienne where it concerned the wilding. The man was highly inappropriate and seemingly unable to take the hint that Brienne had no interest. Looking to the right, Sansa cringed as Tormund sauntered over. His eyes were filled with lust as he swayed his broad shoulders like a deranged peacock.

Looking back to the pair in the trench, Sansa bit back a laugh at the expressions on their faces. Brienne looked exhausted by Tormund’s presence and cringed at the sight of the approaching wildling. Jaime looked vexed, but there was something else under the layer of irritation. Jealousy. 

_I almost wish Cersei was here to see this._

“My woman! Look at you digging a glorious trench!”

“She made it quite clear last night that she is _not_ your woman! Why don’t you run along and do something of use.” As Jaime spoke, the Lannister men to his left stopped shoveling and stood behind him.

Tormund’s face scowled at the sight. “And she’s not your woman either, so why don’t you stay out of our conversation and worry about digging your little hole.” Looking back to Brienne, Tormund’s brows rose. “I was hoping we could train together. Big woman like you could use a real man to train with.”

At the words, Jaime hopped out of the trench and moved quickly to Tormund. The men’s chests bumped, and both sneered at one another. “She’s not interested!” From the trench, Brienne yelled at the two of them to stop being absurd and keep preparing for the war to come, but the men hardly seemed to notice.

_Dolts. Time to stop this nonsense._

Stepping out from the shadows of the castle, Sansa spoke commandingly. “Lady Brienne, if I may. I trust the men can continue work on the trench.”

By the time Sansa reached the trench, Jaime’s men were at his back while he continued jawing at Tormund. As Brienne looked to Sansa and bowed from the trench, the men took notice and backed away from one another.

Jaime moved to help Brienne out of the trench, but she was far too annoyed at his behavior. She muttered something to the Kingslayer which changed his posture. Sagging slightly, he nodded and hopped back into the trench with his men.

As Sansa began to walk back towards the castle with Brienne at her side, Jaime called out. “Don’t forget. You promised me that spar.”

Without looking back, Brienne’s hand waved over her head. “Yes, yes! Dig the trench!”

“You have dirt in your hair!” Jaime’s voice was heavy with mirth. It was unnecessary for Sansa to turn around to see the wide smile on his face.

“I wonder why!” Brienne tried for annoyance, but Sansa could hear the laughter in her tone.

Glancing to her sworn sword, Sansa saw the hint of a small smile tug at Brienne’s lips.

_Damnit._

**Brienne**

“I apologize, my lady. I didn’t realize the hour. I was trying to prepare the trench and…”

Sansa waved her hand dismissively and interrupted Brienne’s words. “It’s fine. I’ve noticed that you’ve been spending a lot of time with the Lannister forces.”

Brienne fidgeted in the seat as they sat in Sansa’s study. She worried that Sansa’s faith in her was wavering. “They’re eager to help. Our men didn’t seem as interested in digging another trench.”

“Is it that the Lannister men eager to help or that Ser Jaime is eager to?” Sansa’s tone felt more an accusation than a question. It was difficult to understand the recent change in Sansa’s attitude towards her, but Brienne tried to reiterate her loyalty.

“Well, they do as Ser Jaime commands them, but they seem eager enough. My lady, about yesterday’s war council meeting, I only mean to serve you well. The Lannister forces are honoring their pledge to fight for the living. Their aid was requested by King Jon and…”

“Lord Jon. My brother bent the knee to the dragon queen.”

“Apologies. Lord Jon. He and Queen Daenerys asked for aid and they…”

“I recall. I am the one who sent you south after all. None of this is why I called you here.” Sansa continued to study Brienne from behind the desk. She clasped her hands together in her lap and tilted her head. It felt to Brienne as though she was being interrogated, but she had no idea what her offence was.

With a deep breath, Sansa looked to the window before speaking. “Help me understand why you have so much confidence in Ser Jaime. Tell me of your journey through the Riverlands with him.”

Brienne began to fidget with the hem of her jerkin. She had never spoken of the journey through the Riverlands to anyone. It was an unspoken memory shared only with Jaime. Far from pleasant, Brienne preferred not to relive it.

“Well, your mother sent me off with Ser Jaime to exchange him for you and Arya. Your brother wanted to keep him as prisoner and as such, we were being hunted by both camps. We had to keep off the main roads and try to move unseen to King’s Landing. That didn’t work out so well. A farmer recognized Ser Jaime and alerted Lord Bolton’s men to our location. They captured us and took us to Harrenhal.”

As Brienne spoke, she could feel Sansa’s eyes on her. Her face flamed slightly at the scrutiny and her fidgeting intensified. Brienne was not accustomed to speaking for so long at a time.

“Lord Bolton then had his men escort Ser Jaime the rest of the way. I believe the rest you know, my lady. It really isn’t so exciting.”

A momentary silence hung over them before Sansa responded. “You’ve left out quite a lot. My brother would not have taken a prisoner’s hand, yet Ser Jaime returned without one.”

Shifting again in her chair, Brienne looked to the floor and took a steadying breath. “That was my fault. When Bolton’s men captured us, they tried to force themselves on me and I fought back. Ser Jaime defended me and lost his hand for it.”

A sharp inhale from across the desk reached Brienne’s ears. She looked up to see Sansa worrying at her lip. Brienne recalled that Ramsay had forced himself on Sansa and Brienne instantly regretted sharing that detail.

“I apologize, my lady. I should not have disclosed that much detail.”

Sansa put up a hand and shook her head. “No, I asked for it. Did anything else happen that you’ve left out?”

Brienne considered lying, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t her nature. “Yes. Ser Jaime became quite fevered. Our captors abused him the entire way to Harrenhal. I tried to keep him alive and aid him, but the men took to mocking us for it. It was a game to them.”

The memory brought long suppressed rage to the surface in Brienne’s mind. Locke and his men had haunted her dreams for years. “I think they enjoyed verbally torturing us. When Lord Bolton released Ser Jaime to King’s Landing, I was of no value, so Lord Bolton gave me to his man Locke as a reward. They came for me again, but I fought them off. Instead they threw me into a bear pit with only a wooden sword to defend myself.”

Glancing at Sansa, Brienne could see the horror in the young woman’s eyes. Taking a breathed deeply as the memory played out in her mind. “I don’t know why Ser Jaime came back for me, but he did. He jumped into the pit and stood before me. He helped me get out. The dolt. He didn’t even have a weapon on him. Then he forced his escort party to take me with them. So, we went back to the capital. He helped me leave King’s Landing after the wedding. He armed me, armored me, sent me to find you and bring you home. All because he swore an oath to your mother. He is a good man. An honorable man. I have seen it. Westeros doesn’t know him as I do, but I trust him.”

Brienne didn’t mean to rant as she did, but it bothered her that no one believed in Ser Jaime. No one asked him of Aerys or trusted his word. Brienne had seen it firsthand in the past fortnight when everyone assumed that he would break his pledge.

Looking at Sansa, Brienne found that she couldn’t read the woman’s expression. She hardly ever could. Sansa was a difficult woman to get to know and seemed to keep everyone at arm’s length.

“Thank you for telling me of this. It helps me better understand your faith in him. If you trust him, I will try to as well. His association with Cersei is worrisome, however. If we win this war with the dead, we will need to face them in battle.”

Brienne felt her stomach drop. She knew that acing Jaime in battle was inevitable. That was the nature of their acquaintance from the beginning. Two people with respect for one another, but forever on opposing sides. Of course, they hardly started out as holding any respect for each other. They were enemies.

Eager to see the other dead, but an oath binding them together, they resented their forced association at the outset. That oath brought them on a journey that saw their relationship evolve from enemies to a strange type of friendship.

It embarrassed Brienne to admit it, but she had long accepted the truth of her feelings for Jaime. She was in love with him. It was a love that outshone anything she had previously known. What she once felt for Renly now seemed little more than a childish infatuation.

Of course, Brienne knew her feelings for what they were. An unrequited love. Brienne was painfully that she was not someone who could dare hope to feel anything short of comradery from another. Even friendship seemed near impossible to come by. She was a great jape to most of Westeros. Only Jaime, Renly, Catelyn, and Pod had shown her kindness. Sansa at least accepted her.

Pod was little more than a boy when they met, and Brienne imagined his kindness was born out of necessity for survival rather than desire to befriend her. To Brienne’s surprise, Pod had not yet abandoned her. Their relationship became more of that between a mother and son. It meant a lot to Brienne that Pod trusted her so and stood by her. She knew that a day would come when he would set off on his own too. _I’ll be alone again._

Smiling weakly at Sansa, Brienne reflected on her comment around facing Ser Jaime across the battlefield. Brienne sighed and spoke in a tone that brokered no argument. “I understand that should we survive this war, I will need to stand against Ser Jaime to keep you safe. I swore an oath to you, and I will never let anything come in the way of that. I will defend you until my last breath, no matter the enemy.”

Something flickered across Sansa’s face at Brienne’s words. With a sharp inhale of breath, Sansa looked to her folded hands and shook her head. “And I swore that I would never ask anything of you that would bring you dishonor. I would not ask you to strike down the very man who gave you that sword to protect me. Who saved you from rape. Who rescued you from death. I will find a way to keep you from facing him on the battlefield should the situation arise. You have my word.”


	5. Fighting as One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The living fight the dead before the last stand at Winterfell.

**Brienne**

It had been four days since Brienne slept in her bed at Winterfell. For their forces to act on Jaime’s plan and engage breakaway groups of wights fleeing dragonfire, the army of the living would need to camp northeast of Winterfell.

According to Bran, the dead were making their way around the Lonely Hills and aiming to pass between the mountain range and the Dreadfort. Jaime and Grey Worm took three-fourths of the living army at Winterfell and split them into two groups.

One group of 30,000 went northeast under Grey worm’s command. They setup base in the valley of the Lonely Hills and would attack stray groups of wights from the north. Grey Worm’s group consisted of Dothraki, Unsullied, and Northmen.

Jaime led the second group which would attack from the south and setup camp near Hornwood. His group of 30,000 consisted of Cersei’s forces, Wildlings, more Dothraki, and the Vale. Each group had their own commander assigned under Jaime.

Sansa had named Brienne commander of the Vale’s forces while Ser Royce remained at Winterfell. In Brienne’s stead, Pod would provide protection to Sansa. Jaime had Ser Addam command Cersei’s forces while Tormund led the Wildlings and Jhaqo led the additional Dothraki. From their camp near Hornwood, Jaime rotated the men in shifts to ensure everyone had adequate rest and nourishment.

The majority of wights kept to formation and only small groups broke away during dragon attacks. When the dragons weren’t laying waste to the Night King’s army, Jon and Daenerys visited the respective camps to give updates on what they could see from their vantage point in the sky.

From Jon’s last report, they had decreased the Night King’s army by one-third and ensure all bodies were burned. With the attacks, they had also managed to slow the dead’s progress towards Winterfell. By Jon’s estimate, the dead were roughly three days out from the Stark’s ancestral home.

It was decided that the living would leave for Winterfell after today’s attacks. They moved faster than the dead and would arrive back at the castle within two days. That would give everyone a day to rest before the last stand.

Brienne felt a wave of relief over how well Jaime’s plan was working. The men had been well equipped with dragonglass weaponry and they adapted quickly to the wights chaotic fighting style. The living lost few men, and even fewer suffered severe enough injuries that they had to return to Winterfell for treatment.

Standing in the command tent at Hornwood, Brienne listened as Jaime gave the shift assignments for the day. “Tormund and Jhaqo, you will take half of Ser Addam’s men and half of your own. When your shift is done, you are to head back to Winterfell. The remaining men will comprise the second shift with me, Ser Addam, and Lady Brienne.”

Tormund’s brows furrowed at the words. “Why can’t I take my men and hers? You, Jhaqo, and this fucker can command your people and set out tonight.”

_Gods. Not this again._

Brienne had been trying to avoid Tormund for the better part of the week. At his best, Tormund would only ask her to spar or share a meal. At his worst, Tormund would offer to share furs.

Jaime huffed in annoyance and met Tormund’s eyes. “We are trying to keep forces evenly distributed across shifts. Each army brings unique skills to the battle and it ensures one group isn’t wiped out due to unforeseen circumstances.”

With a shrug, the Wildling glanced at Brienne. “Fine. Then give me my men, a handful of your fancy southern boys, and half the big woman’s group... with her. I haven’t had a proper fight at her side yet. You keep hogging her.”

Jaime’s face reddened in frustration at the words. “Her name is Lady Brienne. Not _big woman_. This isn’t about who you wish to fight beside. It is about who you survive with. I’ll see you at Winterfell in two days’ time.”

Without another word, Jaime left the tent. Brienne glanced between Tormund and Addam. The former looked enraged while the latter was amused. Addam clapped Tormund’s shoulder and offered a smile that any Lannister would be proud of. “Better luck fighting beside Lady Brienne at the last stand, friend. Lets go get you some _fancy southern boys_.”

Brienne found the men from the Vale and gave them the update. They grumbled about not having the first shift which would see them back at Winterfell sooner, but they did as they were told and went off to eat. Brienne understood their frustration.

The temperature had dropped considerably in the last day and sunlight was scarce. Telling time became more of an art form as winter’s icy grip and the sun’s absence made everything feel like one, long, miserable day.

The last four days on the southwest edge of Hornwood had been an odd experience. In some ways, it reminded Brienne of being at Renly’s camp. She was surrounded by others, but entirely alone at the same time. The knights of the Vale respected her well enough, but she could tell that they would have preferred Ser Royce leading them.

Sansa had felt Ser Royce was better leveraged at Winterfell. He was a sound leader, but Ser Royce was older and didn’t possess the same stamina that Brienne did. It was likely that the older knight only had enough energy for the last stand at Winterfell.

Strangely, most of Brienne’s time was spent with Cersei’s forces. Brienne never sought out their company, but Jaime and Ser Addam approached her; often bringing their top officers. They sparred and spent time around the campfire together. Brienne imagined they tolerated her at Jaime’s request.

It had not gone unnoticed to Brienne that Jaime was always at her side in battle. They moved as though they had fought at each other’s side their entire lives. It was amazing to Brienne how well they read each other’s movements and anticipated each other’s strikes.

They moved like a choreographed dance. Wordlessly fighting together, they felled any enemy that came near them. Apparently, the men of the West noticed how well their commander and Brienne fought together.

Brienne overheard Addam needling Jaime about it the night prior. He made inappropriate japes at their familiarity and intuition with one another. It was obvious that Addam’s insinuations bothered Jaime.

_Gods. How embarrassing for him. I should keep away in the next battle. I would hate for the japes to be taken seriously by anyone or get back to Cersei._

When their shift came, Brienne stood before the Vale as she always did. She did not expect that Jaime would stand next to her given last night’s teasing, but Brienne was surprised to see him walk past Addam and towards her.

_Truly Jaime, you aren’t making this any easier on yourself._

Addam snickered as he walked by and a few officers smirked as well. Jaime glared at his friend and the redheaded commander promptly looked forward and wiped the smile from his face.

_Mayhap Jaime feels obligated to stand beside me because I’m the weaker commander. I’ve never been a leader and clearly, I’m not fit for it. I wish Ser Royce was here so that Jaime wouldn’t need to endure this._

They moved out in silence as they had so many times previously. Given how close the dead were to their position, it didn’t take long to come across the first stray group of wights.

_Gods. We really need to get back to Winterfell. They are far too close now._

The battle started out normal enough and they outnumbered the wights three to one. An intense cold front cut through the lines as an approaching snow squall made its way towards them. Before the snow hit, the familiar cry of a dragon cut through the air.

 _Must be Daenerys or Jon making another pass_.

Suddenly, the dragon’s cries grew closer and a blue flame emerged from the wall of snow coming straight at them. “Brienne! Get down!” Brienne felt something hit her side hard and it sent her sideways. The impact knocked the air from her lungs and Brienne gasped.

It took Brienne a moment to realize that the impact was from Jaime. He was atop her as blue flames poured down where she had been standing moments earlier. Tracking the line of fire, Brienne’s eyes went wide in horror as she saw a dead dragon flying over their group; the Night King seated atop its back.

_Seven help us! He has a dragon!_

As they pushed themselves to a seated position, Jaime and Brienne watched in terror as half of their men were set aflame. “We need to get out of here!” Jaime stood and pulled Brienne up. They sheathed their swords and screamed for retreat.

Jaime yelled at to Addam as they found the man trying to put of flames scorching one of his officers. “Addam! Get the men out of here. We need to retreat towards Winterfell now!”

In the chaos, they could hardly find any of the other officers. They began yelling to everyone in earshot to retreat west. Before they could organize the men, the dragon was circling back around.

Addam screamed to the men to take cover. “Move it! It’s coming back!”

_Where are Daenerys and Jon!?_

Brienne looked frantically to the sky, but the snow squall was blinding. Then, she saw something in the distance. Blue eyes began to emerge from the fog. As vivid as the eyes were, they contained an element of lifelessness to them. A chill ran through Brienne’s spine.

She felt someone tugging at her arm. “Brienne! Lets go, now!”

Turning her head at the sound of Jaime’s voice, Brienne’s eyes were awash with horror. “Jaime. They’re here.”

Jaime looked in the direction she had been facing and his face paled. They stared wordlessly at the growing mass of eyes, decaying flesh, and tattered clothing, shambling towards them. The cry of the dead dragon circling back around broke their trance.

As blue flames began to hit the rear of their group, Jaime tugged at her arm again. “Run, Brienne!”

They took off running west and out of the dragon’s path. It became impossible to know which direction they were headed, but so long as it wasn’t into an awaiting army of dead things, Brienne hardly cared.

_How did they get here so quickly?_

They ran through the blinding snow for what felt like an eternity. The sounds of dying men and the smell of burning flesh invaded Brienne’ senses as her eyes struggled to see before her. Addam was soon at their side and reporting to Jaime.

“I can’t see how many we lost, but most I’ve passed are dead or dying! Are we even going the right fucking way!?”

Jaime looked around frantically as they ran. “I hardly know, but I don’t see any more of those dead things and I’m not stopping to find out!”

More men could be heard running along their side, but it was impossible to see more than five feet in any direction. Day was night and the snow battered their faces.

_Please let those shadows around us be the living._

Looking in every direction, Brienne could see no more than twenty among them with the proper eye color.

_Twenty when we had 15,000. Please let there be more beyond this fog._

Brienne’s legs began to fatigue, and she could feel her hurried steps becoming clumsy _._ Looking behind her again, she saw the rest of their surviving group panting heavily into the cool northern air.

_I can’t run the entire way to Winterfell from Hornwood._

Then she felt a hand in hers, pulling her along. “Brienne. Keep going.” _Jaime_. His eyes were imploring as he tugged her along.

With a nod, she looked forward; determined to keep running. She expected Jaime to release her hand, but he only gripped it tighter. It was pitch black outside and the snow continued to fall at a rapid pace, blinding their path.

Soon everyone’s sprint had turned into a desperate crawl. The march from Winterfell to Hornwood had taken two days. They rarely stopped to rest and only setup camp the one night between. Even now in a desperate retreat, it would be impossible to arrive at Winterfell within a day. They would need to find a place to shelter, but nowhere felt safe nor far enough from the Night King’s clutches.

Hours dragged on and the squall passed. With what little light the moon and stars afforded, Brienne could get a better sense for their numbers. Looking around, Brienne estimated they had half their men remaining.

_Thank the Gods. Much more than I thought._

Brienne considered the head start that Tormund’s group had on them. _We should catch up soon._

Jaime seemed to have the same idea as he met her eyes. “Tormund and Jhaqo can’t be too far ahead. We’ve been moving quickly for hours.” Shouting to Addam, Jaime urged their group along.

In their haste to retreat, all supplies had been left on the outskirts of Hornwood. Unless they wanted to sleep in the open field, they desperately needed to catch up to Tormund’s group.

The group continued forward until they came to the White Fork river. As the river was the halfway point between Winterfell and Hornwood, Brienne surmised that Tormund’s group was just ahead. The arctic temperatures had frozen the river over, and the forces carefully set across on foot.

Then, they heard it. The cries of an approaching dragon from the east.

_Seven hells. Not again._

Brienne yelled at the men to get across the river. She unsheathed her sword and prepared to face any wights accompanying the dragon. “Brienne! Get across the river!” Jaime was at her side and trying to urge her forward.

“I need to protect the rear of the lines! What if more wights approach?”

Jaime huffed in exasperation. “Do you plan to fight the dragon too! Run, Brienne!”

Refusing to flee before her men crossed, Brienne stood her ground and urged her men forward. With terror in their eyes, she encouraged them on.

“Gods damnit Brienne!” At her side, Jaime unsheathed his sword and barked orders at the men to move faster. Further down the line, Brienne heard Addam commanding the men forward as well. As the last of the men passed, Jaime, Brienne, Addam, and several of the officers made their way onto the frozen river.

The dragon came closer as the men moved at a slow pace before them. Their feet slipped on the ice and many lost their footing; falling atop the frozen river. Brienne moved left to help one of the men up. As the man mumbled a thanks and scurried off, a dragon appeared in the sky behind them.

Blue flame broke through the icy river to Brienne’s right. Several of Addam’s group fell into the water and the undercurrent swept them below the untouched ice downstream.

Panic consumed Brienne as she urged the men to cross faster. The dragon circled around and came back towards them. Brienne’s eyes went wide as a line of blue flame broke through the river before her. Scores of men fell below the fractured surface and were also swept downstream, under the ice covering.

Brienne was frozen in place. The path before her was uncrossable and she moved left to find solid ice. Jaime had been separated from her on the right and was just nearing the edge of the river on the other side. Turning around, Jaime noted her predicament and he moved quickly towards her.

At her back, Brienne heard the dragon returning, but this time, another dragon’s cries filled the air. Looking over her shoulder, Brienne saw two living dragons swooping in to attack the Night King’s dragon. Jaime’s voice captured her attention across the river.

“Brienne! You’ve got to move!”

Brienne looked left and right. Other soldiers were in a similar position; unable to move left or right. She began to move forward slowly on the cracking ice. She hopped over broken sections and slipped a few times.

Jaime made his way towards her and extended his left hand. Brienne was roughly ten feet away from him when the ice below her feet began to crack.

“Brienne… don’t move. Wait.” Jaime’s eyes went wide as the large section of ice she was on began to spider and crack. He desperately assessed the situation and nodded to his right. “Move a bit left and then jump. Grab my hand.”

She was so close to the other side and every part of her just wanted to run across, but she had to be careful. Swallowing thickly, Brienne followed his instruction and moved left. As she planted her left foot and prepared to jump the rest of the way, a man to her left fell through the ice. His weight broke off a large section that weakened hers. The ice crumbled from under her feet.

Brienne lunged forward as much as she could, but she lacked the momentum. She landed in the water as her fingertips brushed the edge of the ice that Jaime was moving quickly towards. The water felt like a thousand knives to her skin. Not even the coldest days in the sea surrounding Tarth could compare to the temperature of the White Fork.

The current pulled Brienne downstream and she clawed at the ice along the river’s edge. She had been so close to the other side but had just missed.

_Gods. I’m going to die as Galladon did. Taken by the water._

Her armor was too heavy and made it impossible to keep her head above water, but then something grabbed her hand. She was held in place by someone or something. Brienne fought to hold her head above water, but the current was too strong and pulling her under.

Brienne could barely make out Jaime’s face as he pleaded with her to hold on. Distantly, she heard him scream for help. The water was drowning her as her armor kept her shoulders and head below the surface. It was too much water. Everything started to fade.

The last thing Brienne remembered was a second hand on her arm. Then everything went black.

**Tyrion**

Tyrion sat in the great hall of Winterfell. Bran had been giving them daily updates and earlier he indicated that half the forces were already on the way to Winterfell. Half of Grey Worm’s group and half of Jaime’s group were already camped just west of the White Fork.

Strangely, there had been no sign of the Night King among his army. Bran was trying to track him, but the effort proved unsuccessful thus far. Tyrion hardly understood what had become of Bran.

The young lord spent his days below a weirdwood with his eyes rolled back in a dreamlike state. Twice before the troops left, Tyrion caught Jaime walking back from the godswood after visiting Bran. He never got a chance to ask what they discussed. 

Tyrion always knew without asking that it was Jaime who pushed Bran from the tower. It was a question that Tyrion didn’t want nor need to ask. He knew. He also knew _why_. Cersei’s reaction to Bran’s noted presence at Winterfell during the war council had confirmed as much.

Unlike Jaime, Cersei appeared far from repentant. Cersei was her usual self. Cruel, conniving, and volatile. Her moods turned faster than the northern winds. One moment she was sloshing her wine about and needling Tyrion mercilessly about his ‘new alliance’. The other she was snapping at anyone who came near her. Fortunately, Cersei had kept to the inn while most of the troops were gone.

Tyrion sat before the fire at Sansa’s side. Missandei, Varys, and Sure Spear sat with them, but they were engrossed in their own conversation. Sure Spear was Grey Worm’s second in command and overseeing the Unsullied who remained behind.

Looking to Sansa, Tyrion smiled warmly. “I think we may win this war yet.” Sansa snorted and continued looking into the flames.

“And then what? We turn around and fight another war? You know what that means for your brother.” At Sansa’s response, Missandei, Varys, and Sure Spear stopped conversing and looked to them.

With a heavy sigh, Tyrion nodded. “Well, I’m hoping a certain lady can convince a certain knight to have his army and bend the knee.”

Sansa snorted and a smile tugged at her lips. “I can understand your optimism in the war with the dead, but on the second matter I think you’ve merely overindulged in wine.”

Tyrion chuckled at her words and shook his head. “True, although it would be amusing to watch my sister’s face contort in horror as Jaime orders his men to bend the knee to Daenerys.” As if summoned from the Seven Hells, Cersei came sauntering into the room; the Mountain at her heels.

“Ah my two _favorite_ people.” Cersei sipped her wine as she walked and the Mountain moved slowly behind her.

“Shouldn’t you be down at the inn bothering everyone there?” Tyrion’s tone was as cold as he felt towards the woman moving towards them. His eyes darted to Sansa who scowled at Cersei.

“Where is our brother?” Cersei helped herself to an open seat by the hearth. The Mountain came to stand behind her chair and cast an astonishingly long shadow behind his body.

Tyrion glanced to Sure Spear. The Unsullied officer sat upright in his chair and watched the Mountain wearily.

With a false smile, Tyrion looked to Cersei and spoke in a mocking tone. “I don’t know if you’re aware sweet sister, but you’re not here for a tour of the kingdoms. There is a war going on. Our brother is out leading his men in battle.”

Cersei glowered and leaned towards him. A vicious snarl at her lips. “He is no more equipped to fight those things than you or me. Have you noticed that he is missing a sword hand? He is a commander. Not a foot soldier. Why is he not _here_?”

Tyrion snorted. “He has been gone for days. Are you only just now noticing his absence?”

With knitted brows, Sure Spear spoke from across the room. “I am commander and I fight. Queen Daenerys fight too. Why you not fight? Why you want you brother not fight? I spar with him in yards. He very good with left hand.”

Tyrion snorted and covered his mouth to hide his mirth. “You’ll have to forgive my sister Sure Spear. She is more accustomed to _telling_ people want to do rather than acting herself.”

“If you get Jaime killed, I’ll have the Mountain lop that nasty little head of yours from your shoulders.” Cersei’s tone was threatening, but Tyrion cared little. She had been making threats against his person for the entirety of his life. Tyrion would be more alarmed if she started speaking sweetly to him.

Unexpectedly, Sansa spoke at his side. She looked challengingly to Cersei as she did so. “I wouldn’t worry about your brother’s safety. He’s with my sworn sword. I hear from the wounded men who returned that your brother and my sworn sword _move as one_ in battle. A true sight to behold. I’m certain they’ll keep one another safe.”

A smirk tugged at Tyrion’s lips. _Ah. She has seen it too. That or she just means to piss off Cersei which I’m entirely supportive of._

“See sister. Nothing to worry about.” Tyrion hummed with glee at the returning scowl from Cersei. She stood from her chair and leaned into his face.

“When Jaime gets back, tell him that he is to stay at the inn. I’ve had enough of him sullying himself by sleeping among the foot soldiers in the fields for days on end.”

Before Tyrion could respond, the doors to the hall opened and Theon wheeled Bran into the room. The young lord’s face was as blank as any other day, but his eyes searched the room. When they landed on Cersei, a slight smirk tugged at his lips.

Tyrion looked to his sister and watched her pale slightly. She took a step backwards and sat quietly. Bran’s eyes darted to Sansa and he spoke as Theon brought his wheelchair to a halt beside the group.

“The Night King made his presence felt on the back of the dead dragon. He attacked Ser Jaime’s group before their retreat to Winterfell. They’ve lost more than half the men to the flames or the White Fork.”

Sansa stood quickly from her seat; her eyes wide in fear. “Brienne? Is she alive?”

A knowing smile pulled at Bran’s lips. He looked to Cersei and responded. “Ser Jaime pulled her from the water. I’m certain he’ll find a way to warm her.”


	6. Thawing Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime warms Brienne after her fall. The forces return to Winterfell to preparing for the dead to arrive.

**Jaime**

Panic coursed through Jaime as he and Addam lifted Brienne’s lifeless body from the water. He immediately felt for a pulse and worried that she had taken in too much water. He needed to get her breathing again and then tend to her soaked body.

“Addam, help me get this bloody armor off.”

Jaime and Addam made quick work of Brienne’s armor. Slowly, the men circled them and watched on worriedly. Over the last few days, Brienne had earned the respect of the soldiers across camps. Jaime was hardly surprised at it, but frustrated that it took such extreme conditions for her to earn respect.

With Brienne’s armor removed, Addam began compressing her chest in a bid to get the water out. Growing up on the Sunset Sea, both Jaime and Addam knew how to clear the lungs of drowned soldiers. As Addam pushed hard on her chest, Jaime bent down and blew air into her mouth.

_Come on Brienne. Breath damnit!_

Two more times is all it took. Brienne regurgitated the water that nearly took her life. They rolled her to her side as she choked up more water. A wave of relief like nothing Jaime had ever experienced washed over him.

_I almost lost her._

Jaime’s eyes darted out over the water. The dragons had ceased their battle as the Night King retreated. The living dragons flew towards them and touched down on their side of the river. Looking to Addam, Jaime spoke urgently. “We need to get her to camp. She’s going to freeze to death.”

From down river, Jon and Daenerys approached quickly. It was Jon who yelled to them first. “What happened?”

Addam relayed the events and Jaime heard them converse at his back. Kneeling before him, Daenerys appraised Brienne who was half conscious in Jaime’s arms, but breathing. “We saw the camp just ahead. I could take you atop Drogon to Winterfell, but the journey might take hours and she’ll freeze in these clothes.”

Jaime nodded in understanding. “She needs warmth immediately. I’ll get her to camp.”

Daenerys stood and spoke commandingly to the group amassed around them. “We need to cover Grey Worm’s retreat on the other side of the river. I fear the Night King will come for them next. You’ve put a lot of ground between your group and the dead. We’ll keep watch from the sky tonight.”

As Daenerys moved away, Jaime stood and lifted Brienne in his arms. The men cleared a path as they moved towards the encampment. As Daenerys said, their camp was just ahead, and the walk didn’t take long.

_Thank the Gods. She needs a fire and furs._

Glancing at Brienne, Jaime could see her lips turning blue as she lay unconscious in his arms. Any wakefulness had long since faded as the cold set in. Her clothing was drenched, and Jaime could feel the water dripping off her body with every step.

Entering the camp, the men screamed for a tent to be cleared. One of the first tents they came upon was quickly vacated and two men from Jaime’s forces followed him inside. “What do you need my lord?”

“Extra clothing and furs. She’s soaked.” Jaime appraised the tent. It appeared to have been setup for several men. The bedrolls were laid out and the tent was warm. Jaime began peeling layers off an unconscious Brienne.

The men quickly returned with the requested items and then took Brienne’s wet belongings to the campfire. Jaime knew that Brienne would need body warmth quickly. He put the furs over her as Addam entered the tent. “Come on old man. You can’t do this one-handed.”

Addam helped Jaime remove his armor quickly. Removing the pieces one-handed was always a challenge and Brienne had little time to suffer through Jaime fumbling with it. Jaime had the current set of armor designed so that he could remove it alone if necessary, but having Addam to help expedite the process was greatly appreciated.

Slipping under the furs, Jaime removed his tunic, but thought it best to keep his breeches on as he pulled Brienne close.

“I’ll keep the men out. Yell if you need anything.” Addam moved quickly from the tent and Jaime could hear him barking orders to those around the campfire.

_Please Brienne. Wake up. Just don’t kill me when you do._

Her back felt like ice against his chest as Jaime tugged her close. Wrapping his arms around her, Jaime embraced her as forcefully as he could without cutting off her breathing. His breath was warm on her neck, but the cold emanating off her body was alarming.

Soon, Brienne began to tremble as her body warmed. Jaime continued to hold her tight to his chest and spoke soothingly to her.

“You’re alright. We got you out.”

Brienne’s teeth were starting to chatter, and Jaime could tell she was regaining consciousness. “Jaime?”

Jaime laughed into her neck. “So, I just had to get you naked to drop the ‘ser’?”

At his words, he felt Brienne stiffen as realization hit her. She tried moving away quickly, but he held her close. “Relax Brienne. We need to get you warm.”

“Where… are… my… clothes?”

_Typical. Nearly dies and worried about propriety._

Unable to contain the amusement from his tone, Jaime pressed his face close to the back of her neck and whispered. “I found Tormund tearing them off you. Not sure what he did with them.”

Brienne’s body was trembling more than before as her teeth chattered and she struggled to talk. “Stop… it. You’re… not… funny.”

“Just relax. I didn’t let that beast near you. Now how come every time we’re naked, one of us falls unconscious?”

Brienne tried to elbow him, but Jaime was holding her so tightly that it amounted to nothing. Snickering into her hair, Jaime tried to drop the jest from his tone.

“No one saw you naked. Rest, Brienne.”

Jaime worried at how hard her body was shaking. He reached for one of her hands and rubbed her fingertips. They were still cold as ice, and he worried that he wasn’t warming her fast enough before permanent damage could set in.

“Can you feel your feet, Brienne?”

Without verbally responding, Brienne shook her head in denial.

_Seven hells._

Jaime toed off his shoes and felt her feet with his. He hissed on contact. It was like dipping his own toes into the White Fork. Jaime untied his breeches and pushed them off below the furs. He used his legs to drag Brienne’s feet between his calves.

_Gods she’s cold._

Realizing this wasn’t going to work, Jaime rolled her to face him. Stubborn as she was, Brienne fought him the entire way and Jaime had to beg her to cooperate. Once she was facing him, Jaime tucked her head under his chin and pulled the furs up. He knew that he had to keep her head and torso warm more than anything else.

Jaime draped his leg over hers and pulled her hands to his chest. Time seemed to fade away as Jaime felt Brienne’s body tremble beneath him. Slowly, her body heat began to stabilize, and Brienne fell asleep in his arms. Jaime couldn't help himself and placed a kiss to the crown of her head; holding her close. The steady rise and fall of her chest combined with her improving temperature gave Jaime the relief he needed to fall asleep.

Jaime didn’t know how long they were asleep for, but he was awoken by a pair of burly hands pulling him hard by the hair shoulder. A balled fist hit him hard in the face and Tormund screamed at him. “My woman! What the fuck are you doing!”

Before Jaime could react, Addam and two of his men were grabbing Tormund by the arms and yanking him towards the tent flap. The men were screaming at him and Jaime was in a daze. Blood poured from his nose as Brienne jolted upright and used the furs try to stop the bleeding.

She looked at Tormund in a rage and screamed at him. “I’m not your woman Tormund! What is wrong with you!?”

Realizing that Brienne was exposed, Jaime threw the furs over her and grabbed his breeches. Addam and the men threw Tormund from the tent. The shouts of the Wildling continued to fill the air around them as Jaime stomped out from the tent.

Tormund was on his backside in the snow and thrashing about as all three men were on top of him. Blood covered Jaime’s face and chest as he stood over Tormund with only his breeches on. All he could think about was killing the man.

“What the fuck is your problem, Tormund!?” Jaime barked at the wildling as Addam and his officers slowly stood up.

Tormund moved to his feet from the ground. His face was red with rage as he narrowed his eyes at Jaime. “You stole her from me!’

“I didn’t steal anyone from you! You heard her. She isn’t your woman and she clearly is not interested!” Jaime felt his flesh hand ball into a fist. The frigid temperature kissed his stump and sent a surge of pain through his arm.

“Well she ain’t yours! Why are _you_ in there with her!?”

“She fell through the ice and into a river you idiot. She would have died if we didn’t get her warm!” Jaime felt his blood pumping rapidly through his body. He hardly noticed the snow under his feet as he glared at Tormund. The wildling stood panting from the exertion and it was only then that Jaime realized a crowd had started to form.

Addam spoke at his side in hushed tones. “You might want to put clothes on.”

With an agitated sigh, Jaime pointed at Tormund. “Come near her again and I’ll run you through with my sword. She almost died. She doesn’t need you making things worse.”

Storming back into the tent, Jaime saw that Brienne had found the spare clothes that the men dropped off. She had the tunic on, but Jaime could see the curve of her ass as the fabric barely passed her hips.

_Right, maybe don’t stare or we’ll have bigger problems._

Hearing him enter, Brienne turned around and held the breeches in front of herself. Her face was flush with embarrassment as she held the clothing in front of her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been in here like this. I’ll leave.”

Jaime huffed a laugh and looked around. “It’s not my tent either. Brienne, you need to rest. Tormund won’t bother you anymore.”

Ignoring his words, Brienne threw on the breeches and tried to find her boots. She hadn’t realized that the men placed them by the campfire to dry off. “Brienne, by the Gods would you relax.”

“Relax!? Do you have any idea how this looks!? Gods, what if Cersei finds out. I’m so sorry about this. I will try to make this right.”

_Sorry about what?_

All Jaime could worry about was her comfort and honor. She was a noblewoman unwed and he didn’t want the men saying anything inappropriate.

“Brienne, you didn’t do anything and it’s your honor that I’m worried about. You were unconscious! I don’t care what Cersei thinks!”

The moment Jaime said the words, he knew they were a lie. _Cersei will kill her. Seven hells, this is all Tormund’s fault!_

Jaime’s face fell and he ran his hand through his hair. Glancing to Brienne, Jaime could see how uncomfortable she was as her eyes continued to dart around the room, presumably looking for the rest of her things.

With a sigh, Jaime moved to speak, but Brienne was quickly pushing past him and outside. _Stupid, stubborn wench! She doesn’t even have boots on._

Jaime tried to call after her, but the tent flap was already swaying in the breeze. Putting on his boots, tunic, and jerkin, Jaime stepped outside. At the campfire roughly twenty feet from the tent, Jaime saw Brienne speaking to Addam.

The redheaded knight moved to the fire and handed Brienne her boots. A small smile flickered across Addam’s face as he pointed to the armor. With a nod of thanks, Brienne put her boots on and looked around the camp awkwardly before taking her things and walking off.

Jaime watched as Brienne moved down the rows of tents; her head darting in each direction as if looking for a familiar face. Her wet clothes and armor were tucked in her arms and left a trail of water atop her snowy path. Jaime didn’t know how long he had been staring when he felt a presence at his side. “She’s got a _great_ ass.”

Looking angrily to Addam, Jaime felt his temper flare. His friend laughed and threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Did you at least get a kiss out of it?”

“I hate you.”

**Brienne**

The next day the forces moved quickly to Winterfell. Brienne had never felt more relieved to be headed back to the familiarity of the Stark’s ancestral home. The prior day’s events weighed heavy on her mind and she worried after Jaime’s reputation.

_How embarrassing for him. To be seen in such a state with a great beast like me. Gods don’t let Cersei hear of this._

Jaime had tried to seek her out that night, but Brienne was too embarrassed and refused to go back to the tent for rest. Instead, she sat around the campfire with the men from the North and the Vale. Her group from the Vale was downcast having lost many of their comrades.

The Northmen had suffered as well. A wight giant attacked their group and killed many of their men before the dragons set the creature aflame. Everyone was eager to get back to the castle and aid the final preparations. A final night with only the living’s eyes staring back at their own.

A strange thing had begun to take root as their group moved west. Comradery. The men from the West japed with men from the North and the Vale. Dothraki and Wildings bonded over their shared brashness and free lifestyle. The Unsullied generally kept to themselves, but Grey Worm spent much of the march talking to Jaime.

The Unsullied commander was interested in Jaime’s training tactics for the men. He had noticed their formations and drills; wishing to instill new technique in his own men. Brienne expected Jaime to deflect the questions. After this war, the would be enemies again. Instead, Jaime gave genuine answers and suggestions. 

Another peculiar behavior that Brienne had not expected to deal with on the march back to Winterfell was kindness from the men. They offered cloaks off their backs since hers had been left behind at Hornwood. They shared what little food they had and offered to carry her armor.

Stranger still was Jaime’s behavior. He acted as though nothing unusual had happened the day prior. He japed with her and stood unnecessarily close. Were it not for Jaime’s face, Brienne might have believed that nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

Tormund had hit him square in the face and it was a miracle that Jaime’s nose wasn’t broken. Black eyes formed from the force and there was still dry blood on Jaime’s tunic.

“I’m sorry about your face.”

Jaime feigned offense at her remark and scoffed. “Sorry about it? Well that’s mean. People usually think it’s my best feature. Do you not think I’m pretty, Lady Brienne?”

_Gods this man._

Brienne rolled her eyes but could hardly contain the smirk tugging at her lips. She could feel Jaime staring at her. It was an unnerving sensation. Whenever people took the time to truly look at her, it was followed by a jape or an open expression of repulsion.

She couldn’t bear to turn and see the same expression on Jaime’s face. Instead, Brienne kept her eyes fixed on the horizon and tried to remember a time before she was aware of her ugliness. If it existed.

_He is the one beaten, but I’m the eyesore._

They walked for some time before eventually reaching Winterfell. Sansa, Tyrion, Pod, and Bran were outside the gates awaiting them. The various camps stationed outside the gates stilled at their approach. Shock stretched across their faces as they appraised the returning.

_Did they expect us to die?_

It wasn’t until Brienne looked behind her that she realized the source of everyone’s bewilderment. Men from all armies were mingled together and talking happily. It was more like they were one army than six.

Before Brienne could think on it further, Sansa’s cool mask of indifference broke. The young woman moved quickly towards her and threw her arms around Brienne. “Thank the Gods you’re alive.”

Pulling back from the embrace, Sansa looked to Jaime and nodded. “Thank you for saving her.”

_How does she know? Mayhap Jon and Daenerys? Why would they care?_

Jaime’s expression mirrored her own confusion. As they approached the awaiting party at the gate, Bran smiled strangely at her and Jaime, but said nothing. They were ushered inside for warm meals and Brienne looked over her should to see Bronn approaching.

“Holy fuck! What happened to ya face!?” Addam snorted at Jaime’s side and clapped him on the back. “Go get some food. I’ll give Bronn the update.”

After being offered warm soup in the hall, the commanders were called to a war council. Jon, Daenerys, Varys, Bran, Cersei, and the Mountain were already inside. Sitting in a chair against the wall, Cersei sipped her wine as the others spoke in hushed tones. As Tyrion, Jaime, Addam, and Bronn entered the room, Brienne saw Cersei’s mouth drop at the sight of Jaime’s face.

“What happened to your face?” Cersei looked to Jaime as though he was covered in shit. With a huff of laughter, Addam moved quickly beside Brienne. Bronn and Jaime stood next to Addam and across the table from where Cersei sat. Before Jaime could respond, Tormund, Grey Worm, Ser Jorah, Arya, and Jhaqo entered the room.

Everyone took their place around the table and looked to Daenerys and Jon. Before either could speak, Cersei moved to the table and stared at Jaime. “I said, what happened to your face?” Her tone dripped with disgust as she glared at him.

Jaime huffed a laugh and glanced at Brienne and Addam. “Did something happen? Whatever it was certainly didn’t hurt. Mayhap a fly landed on me in sleep.”

Tormund growled at Jaime and pounded his fist on the table. The pieces representing their armies shook at the force. “I punched that southern fuck right in the face!”

At the Wildling’s words, Cersei recoiled as if struck. “You let that beast hit you and he’s still alive!?”

Jon attempted to settle the room which was looking on in shock. “Your Grace, I’ve spoken to Tormund on the matter. He will be staying away from Ser Jaime for the reminder of your stay.”

“I want his head!” Cersei snapped at Jon and narrowed her eyes at the young lord. “I am the Queen and this beast struck the commander of my forces.”

“It’s done with. Just leave it be.” Jaime spoke in clipped tones and looked to the board.

Before Cersei could speak, Tormund leaned forward and spoke to Cersei while staring at Jaime. “You tell your fancy southern fucker to stay away from my woman! He tried to steal her from me!”

_Seven hells._

“We’ve been through this. She is _not_ your woman. By the Seven, I will gut you here and now if you ever go near her again!” Jaime’s tone caught everyone off guard. It suddenly felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room.

At Brienne’s side, Sansa snickered quietly and covered the spreading smile with her hand.

“No one is gutting anyone. The enemy marches on us as we speak. I would ask that Tormund and Ser Jaime keep clear of one another.” Daenerys’ voice was heavy with fatigue as she placed steadying hands on the table.

She and Jon had been up all night guarding the army. Fortunately, the Night King had not returned for another attack, but if anyone needed rest, it was the pair of them.

Cersei’s attention turned to Brienne. A knowing look on her face. “There was only one ‘she’ in your group, Jaime. That is, if we are qualifying livestock in the division of sex.”

“My sworn sword is more of a woman than you could ever be. You would be wise to keep her name out of your mouth.” The words caught Brienne by surprise. She muttered to Sansa, imploring her to not risk Cersei’s ire at her expense.

Addam chuckled at Brienne’s side and spoke in hushed tones that were hardly unheard by anyone in the room. “She’s _definitely_ a woman.”

Jaime muttered under his breath and Addam’s laughter died, but the outburst caught Cersei’s attention. “Jaime. Did you touch that _thing_?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific than that, sister. I touched a number of _things_ over the past few days.”

Cersei’s face contorted in rage at Jaime’s feigned ignorance. She opened her mouth to reprimand him, but Tormund spoke again.

“You were naked in bed with my woman!”

_Oh Gods. I preferred the wights to this. Someone kill me and burn the body._

Arya guffawed from next to Jon. “What!? You didn’t!” The young wolf clapped mischievously as she took in the scene playing out before her. Brienne could feel her face reddening and wanted nothing more than to retreat to her room.

Cersei slammed her fist onto the table. “Jaime! Tell me this is some sick jape. Addam is always whoring about. Surely it was him who this beast of a man saw.”

_Please. Just lie._

“It was me.”

_That’s it!? Nothing more!? No context. Truly, Jaime!_

Brienne glanced to the other commanders for support. They all knew what had happened. Even Jon and Daenerys. No aid came.

“There is a perfectly good explanation. I had fallen into the river and Ser Jaime was only trying to…”

Before Brienne could finish, Bran interrupted her; his tone matter-of-fact. “I hardly see what the fuss is about. It’s not as though this was the first time Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne were naked together.”

_Fuck! I’m dead and this is actually the Seven Hells. I did drown at the White Fork._

Brienne stammered and stared at the table. “Nothing happened. If we could discuss the strategy…”

“What!?” Cersei’s hand swiped across the table and knocked the pieces to the floor. The entire room went silent except for the laughter of Bronn and Arya. Brienne glanced at Jaime who looked as though the Night King himself entered the room.

Arya continued laughing as she spoke. “If we all die on the morrow, this was worth it.”


	7. Fireside Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war council, conversations are had and the group relaxes in the great hall.

**Tyrion**

Cersei stormed out of the small council as a heavy silence fell over the room. The last time Tyrion had seen Cersei that mad, Joffrey’s face was a most unnatural shade of purple. As the door shut behind her and her zombie-like guard, Bronn and Addam began laughing loudly.

At their outburst, the rest of the assembled commanders looked to them in shock. Addam wiped a stray tear from his eye as he glanced to Jaime; his chest still heaving with laughter. “Gods, Jaime! You’ve properly pissed her off now.”

Recognizing their improper behavior and attention from the opposing forces, Jaime tried to keep face. He muttered something under his breath to quiet Bronn and Addam before the three looked to Jon and Daenerys.

Glancing to his queen, Tyrion could see the bewilderment in her eyes. _Yes, this is how her own people feel about her. There is no love in Westeros for Cersei. They mock out of view but follow her orders out of fear._

Clearing this throat, Tyrion met her eyes. “Your Grace. Shall we proceed.”

As though shaken from sleep, Daenerys flinched and rubbed at her eyes. “Yes, sorry. That was just… a lot. Bran has informed us that we’ve successfully reduced the Night King’s armies to around 60,000. That puts us on even footing against the dead. I’d ask the commanders of those who remained behind to provide updates on the preparations.”

Tyrion listened to the updates with rapt interest. Sansa gave updates on behalf of the North and the Vale. Tormund gave an update from the Wildings while continuing to glower at Jaime. Then it came to Bronn who spoke for his own efforts while Jaime was gone.

“Well while this fucker was off gettin’ naked and splashin’ about in rivers, we finished the trench along the western wall. They’re nice and deep. Tested ‘em out meself with a lovely lady from Winter Town.”

Jaime and Addam let out a collective groan at Bronn’s crass words.

At the head of the table, Daenerys sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Lovely. Well if that’s all, I think we can break for the day. We could all use some rest before the dead arrive on the morrow.”

As the room began to clear out, Tyrion moved quickly to Jaime. “Brother. A word.” He watched as Jaime met Brienne’s eyes; a hint of desperation flashed through his features. Jaime nodded in acceptance but asked for a moment to speak with Brienne. Tyrion watched as Jaime moved to Brienne’s side and spoke in hushed tones.

It seemed an odd exchange. Without hearing Jaime’s words, Tyrion knew that something plagued him. The conversation didn’t last long as Sansa moved between them and gave a reply that muted any further words from Jaime.

Tyrion scanned the room and saw Addam and Bronn waiting dutifully by the door. They were both biting back a laugh and looking to the floor while elbowing one another.

As Jaime returned to his side, Tyrion smirked and inclined his head. “Walk with me.” They exited the room with Addam and Bronn at their heels. “Lets grab some wine and enjoy our last night in this world together, but first, I was hoping we could chat privately for a moment.”

Glancing back at Bronn and Addam, Jaime sighed. “Very well. Did it look quite bad in there? The dissension between our forces and Cersei?”

Tyrion chuckled and placed a hand on his brothers arm as they moved down the hallway. “No one questions you or your men’s loyalty to your queen, Jaime. That said, you can hardly be faulted for what transpired. Cersei is not acting very queenly.”

Keeping his voice low, Jaime looked around the hallway before speaking in hushed tones. “She’s truly losing it, Tyrion. I’ve never seen her this unhinged.”

“No, she has always been this unhinged. You just aren’t accustomed to being on the receiving end.” Tyrion offered a sad smile at his big brother. Jaime shook his head and looked forward.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t protect you more from her. I wasn’t a very good brother to you.” Remorse was heavy in Jaime’s tone. Tyrion could see his brother deflate slightly at the confession. Pulling Jaime aside, he told Addam and Bronn to meet them in the hall shortly.

Tyrion pulled Jaime into the vacant room at his back. He closed the door behind them and moved towards the empty chairs in the corner. The room was small and surprisingly warm considering the lack of fire going.

“Now listen to me, Jaime. I do not blame you for Cersei’s treatment of me. She was hardly the only one.” Tyrion took a steadying breath and tried to control his emotions. He could feel the lump forming in his throat. “You were the only one who treated me with respect. With kindness. With dignity. Everyone else… Cersei, father, the court, our kin. They all treated me like a monster. Some deformed creature unworthy of breathing the same air as them. Were it not for you, I would not have survived my childhood.”

Shaking his head, Jaime looked to the table and picked at the woodgrain edges. “Yes, you would have.”

“No, I wouldn’t have. Trust me. I don’t want you feeling responsible for the hatred that Cersei has expelled into this world. You are not her and you are not responsible for her actions. When this war ends, I hope we’re standing atop the dead and looking to the sun. I wish that would be the end of it, but we know it’s not. There will be a second war to come and only you can stop it.”

Jaime’s expression was incredulous. “Me? What are you on about?”

The room was stifling, and the topics hardly helped. With a sigh, Tyrion ran a hand over his face before continuing. “Cersei’s forces don’t follow her. They never have. They follow you. We all saw it in there just now. They have no respect for her; only you. Tell them to bend the knee, Jaime. You know that Cersei isn’t fit to rule.”

Jaime cast a warning glance at Tyrion. “I cannot abandon her. She is our queen and I swore to protect her. The men only listen to me because the queen has made me their commander. If Cersei casts me off on the morrow, they will follow her. As they should.”

“Gods, Jaime. You truly don’t see it. The men fear her, but they do not respect her. They never have. I won’t say anything more on the topic. As much as I hope we beat back death, there are no guarantees and I would rather enjoy what little time we have remaining. I just leave you with one thought on the matter.”

At Tyrion’s words, Jaime looked to him. His brows knitted together as he studied Tyrion’s features. Tyrion grabbed Jaime’s forearm and leaned forward. His features softened and a sad smile tugged at his lips. “You enjoy fighting at _her_ side now when we are allied, but will you be able to face _her_ across the field?”

Jaime’s face fell at Tyrion’s words. It was painful to watch his big brother pine for someone that he could not have. Their loyalties were divided, and both were too honorable to move against their sovereigns.

With a deep sigh, Tyrion sat back in his seat. “Enough of that now. Tell me… just how many times have you been naked together?” A smirk tugged at Tyrion’s lips as he watched Jaime bury his face in his arms on the table.

**Jaime**

Addam and Bronn were easy enough to find in the hall. The space had been cleared out and tables pushed to the side. Sansa planned to use the room as a makeshift infirmary should the living prevail.

On the way in, Tyrion had procured two jugs of wine.

_He doesn’t remember Bronn very well if he thinks the man sat idle, waiting for him to supply drink._

Sure enough, Addam and Bronn had a jug of wine between them as they laughed loudly before the fire. Jaime and Tyrion pulled up seats beside them and filled their own cups. As the rim of Jaime’s cup touched his lips, Bronn decided to be Bronn.

“I knew ya was fuckin’ ‘er! Told Pod meself at Riverrun. Feel like I should get some kinda prize. Maybe a castle.”

Choking on his wine, Jaime glared at Bronn. “I have not besmirched Lady Brienne. She is an unwed noblewoman and you would do well to remember that!”

Addam snickered at Bronn’s side. His eyes shone with mirth as he smirked at Jaime. “Well you sure knew who Bronn was talking about. I didn’t hear anyone mention Lady Brienne.”

Jaime felt his ears redden as he looked away from the men. Before he could defend himself, Addam spoke again. “So, this wasn’t the first time you got a view of her? You’ve been holding out.”

_Gods. This was a horrible idea._

“It doesn’t matter. Just drop it. You both made her uncomfortable in the war council. You’re no better than Tormund.”

The men let out a collective scoff and drank their wine. Jaime thought the matter settled, but Addam was hardly through with him.

“All I want to know is, how long have you been in love with her?”

“I am not.” Jaime couldn’t look them in the eyes as he lied. Staring into his wine cup, he felt his shoulders hunch and prayed to the Seven that they would leave him be.

The men guffawed at his words and Addam nodded placatingly. “Whatever you say. So, if you don’t want her, then you won’t mind if I go after her?” Addam raised a challenging brow and turned to Bronn. His lips curled at the corners. “Gods, I’m telling you, Bronn. That ass.”

“Or them legs! Would love havin’ them wrapped around me all…”

Jaime interrupted Bronn’s words. His tone was warning but that did little to stop the men’s amused expressions. “Enough! What is wrong with the two of you? Leave her alone. She is a…” 

Bronn interrupted, waving him off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. A highborn lady who you’ve been hangin’ out naked with and haven’t done a thing about. What a waste.”

Mercifully, Tyrion came to Jaime’s rescue. “Alright, enough now. So, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. Tell me, have you enjoyed the northern brothels as much as I did?”

Jaime cast an appreciative glance at Tyrion who nodded slightly in return. As Addam and Bronn exchanged tales of bedded whores, Jaime sipped his wine and stared into the flames. Strangely, it wasn’t the thought of facing more wights that unnerved Jaime. It was the thought of what Cersei might do to Brienne.

Absently drinking his wine, Jaime replayed everything that had happened since arriving in the North. He knew that being in close proximity to Brienne while trying to suppress his feelings would be difficult, but he never imagined it would be this difficult.

They were two people destined to sit on opposites side of a war, doing the bidding of queens who cared little for what they wanted. Jaime considered Brienne’s discomfort at his presence near the White Fork. She was always difficult to read and never voiced her own desires. Brienne was single-minded. A woman focused on doing honorable things for those she was sworn to.

_Does she care for me even a fraction as much as I care for her? Does she see through me? Does she know that I love her? Apparently everyone else does._

Jaime’s mind wandered to the battles fought at each other’s side. He never felt focused or in form until he could feel Brienne’s presence at this side. Their limbs frequently brushed against one another as they sliced through wights. Their eyes would meet throughout the battle; a sea of sapphires reminding him what he fought for.

_Her eyes. I love them. I love everything about her. Her sense of honor. Her stubbornness. Her scowls. Her smile… she doesn’t smile enough. Her eyes dance when she does. Her cheeks flush and it highlights her freckles. I love those too._

It had hardly occurred to Jaime that Tyrion continued filling his cup of wine throughout the evening. A hard swat to his arm from Bronn broke his thoughts. “Huh? What?”

The men chuckled and Jaime was unaware for how long he had been lost in his thoughts. Tyrion leaned forward and raised a brow. “Did you hear anything we said?”

Everything was feeling a bit fuzzy as the wine warmed his body. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yes, we know.” Tyrion’s tone was thick with amusement as he chuckled lightly. “You had _that_ look on your face again. Gods, you don’t even need her physical presence to moon over her. Do you?”

Before Jaime could defend himself, the doors to the hall pushed open. Brienne, Pod, Bran, Theon, and Sansa entered the room. The group seemed surprised to find them there, or rather, everyone except Bran. Jaime jumped to his feet and stared at Brienne. “My lady!”

Jaime didn’t think it possible, but he could _feel_ Tyrion smirking at him.

_Fuck off, you shit._

Sansa smirked and looked between Jaime and her sworn sword. “Yes, well hello Ser Jaime. I’m here too. Not certain if you noticed there were _two_ ladies entering.”

As if seeing her for the first time, Jaime’s brows raised slightly, and he bowed his head. “Yes, hello Lady Sansa.”

With a wide smile, Tyrion looked at the incoming group. “Welcome! We were just having some drinks. Would you care to join us?”

Bran smiled and looked to Jaime. “We were just looking to warm up.”

_I never should have pushed this boy. He means to destroy me now._

Before departing for Hornwood, Jaime had made it a point to visit Bran on multiple occasions. His initial intent has been to apologize, but he found himself visiting the young man more than once.

When Jaime lost his hand, it was as though he lost his metaphorical armor. His Kingslayer armor. He remembered his boyhood dream of becoming a knight and protecting those he loved. When he was knighted by one of his heroes on the battlefield, he felt a step closer to achieving his goal.

Then Aerys happened. All of Westeros deemed him guilty without questioning his decision. His dream was shattered and to Jaime’s brothers-in-arms, he had forever soiled the cloak. At first, the negative attention wore at Jaime. He wallowed in self-pity and despaired that his life was forever ruined. Then he learned to live with it. To make it his own.

He became the part that Westeros designed for him. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man without honor. He would have gone the rest of his days playing that role and ignoring the boy inside who just wanted to serve and protect. Brienne reminded him of who he was. She reminded him that you don’t need acknowledgement of your deeds to be a good man.

Brienne would never be considered a knight by the realm, but she lived her life as one. Jaime had never met anyone more deserving of the title than her. Brienne transformed the role of knight into a lifestyle rather than a formal position to be earned. No one would know of nor document her great deeds in a book, but that didn’t stop her from being true to herself.

Jaime knew his reputation was tarnished, but did it matter? Did he only want to be a great knight for the notoriety or because it was who he was? When he lost his hand and had his entire life challenged by Brienne, Jaime realized that he wanted to be a great knight because it was who he was. Even if his greatest acts were never documented, he wanted to be a good man. An honorable knight. An oathkeeper.

When he acknowledged that, he shed the Kingslayer armor. It began to feel remorseful for crimes committed under his twisted persona. He thought of Bran. He thought of his cousin. He thought of everyone he wronged as Cersei’s creature.

Jaime and Bran had spoken at length in the godswood. Bran seemed uninterested in Jaime’s apology. He only seemed to care that Jaime was at Winterfell now. Jaime learned that Bran couldn’t see the future, but he could see the past.

“The past tells us what may be. We need to learn from it, or we’re doomed to repeat it. I have seen things in the past that could play a role in the wars to come.”

_Wars. He said wars. Do we survive the dead or is he just assuming we will?_

Bran’s tone lacked emotion and his eyes were dull. The boy was no longer the young lord who Jaime pushed from a window years ago. His eyes held lifetimes of memories. Bran told Jaime something that reminded him of a dream he once had. A dream against a weirdwood tree as he rode away from Harrenhal. Away from Brienne.

_“Look for the light in the darkness.”_

From time to time, Jaime saw flickers of the boy beneath the three-eyed raven. It was then that the teasing came. Given what Jaime had done to Bran, he felt it inappropriate to do little more than bite his tongue and take the verbal assault.

Now as Bran was wheeled to a spot opposite him in the great hall, Jaime sucked in a breath and braced himself. Offering a chair to Brienne, Jaime observed her trepidation. Her eyes flicked to Sansa who took a seat between Bran and Theon near Tyrion. “Do you need me to tend to anything, my lady?”

Sansa smiled warmly and shook her head. “Sit with us Brienne. Pod too.”

Pod’s eyes went wide with excitement as Tyrion offered him a cup. A horrified expression moved across Brienne’s features. “The battle is on the morrow, Pod.”

With a knowing smile, Tyrion filled the boy’s cup to the brim. Coming to stand before Brienne, Tyrion smiled warmly. “Even my brother is drinking before the battle. That should tell you something. Have a cup.”

Extending a cup towards Brienne, Tyrion looked to Jaime and raised a brow.

_Do not start._

Pod and Brienne sat between the Lannister brothers. Jaime couldn’t help but shuffle his chair closer to Brienne and lean in. He knew it was likely the last time they could sit peacefully together and talk.

The wine continued to flow and everyone loosened from it. Even the ever-stoic Sansa Stark began to relax as she japed with Tyrion. Jaime considered the pair and thought that under different circumstances, they would have made a solid match.

As everyone began to feel their wine, the japes about Cersei began. For moons, the running jape among Bronn and Addam was trying to hide Jaime from Cersei. Back in King’s Landing, they would jokingly hide him behind the drapes or push him into a corner at Cersei’s approach. The recent fortnight and Cersei’s increasingly volatile mood only served to fuel them more.

They did impersonations of Cersei; sloshing their wine about and yelling Jaime’s name in a high-pitched tone. Addam’s impersonations were always the best and Jaime bit back a laugh as his friend carried on.

“Gods damnit Jaime! Why haven’t you killed everyone already!? Useless!”

_When did I begin feeling obligated to protect Cersei rather than desiring to protect her?_

Jaime knew that he shouldn’t be laughing. He knew how bad it looked in front of the opposing camp that was huddled around the fire. The wine had gotten to him though and Jaime was feeling a bit too carefree.

Jaime snorted and chuckled while looking to Addam and Bronn. “You want to send the Night King running for the wall? Lets send Cersei after him. Bronn, go tell Cersei that the Night King made off with the last barrel of wine.”

“Ya fuckin’ crazy! She’ll slit me throat before I get halfway through the sentence. Go send ya lady knight. That’ll really set Cersei off!”

Jaime saw Brienne tense at his side, but he couldn’t stop laughing. Laying on her shoulder, Jaime chuckled and feigned distress. “Will you protect me from her? She’s more apt to kill me than the wights.”

Brienne stiffened at his proximity and muttered a response for his ears only. “You all need to stop. She’s _your queen_.” The way Brienne said “your queen” didn’t sit well with Jaime. Her tone suggested a belief that Cersei was more to Jaime than a sovereign.

Jaime couldn’t handle Brienne thinking that Cersei was anything more to him than kin. Not anymore. His heart belonged to another for quite some time now.

Removing any mirth from his tone, Jaime sat upright and looked into Brienne’s eyes. “No, she’s not.” He stared at Brienne, desperately needing her to understand what he meant. The room seemed to fade away around them. All Jaime could see were sapphire eyes and his mouth felt unbearably dry.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion around him. Whether it was the wine or Brienne’s intoxicating presence, Jaime couldn’t take his eyes off her. His brain hummed with a million things he wanted to say, but was too frightened to.

_Can you not see it? Do you really think me little more than her creature?_

When Brienne didn’t move to speak, Jaime said the words again. “She’s not.” Breaking eye contact from him, Brienne glanced around the room and to her cup. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and cleared her throat quietly.

Without warning, she stood from her chair and excused herself. “I’m going to rest now. My lady, do you need anything else tonight?”

_No! Don’t leave._

Sansa shook her head and offered a small smile to Brienne. The young woman’s face seemed to reflect a slight disappoint in Brienne’s decision to retire.

Jaime stood quickly from his seat. “I’ll walk you back.” It was as though his mouth and body had a mind of their own. His brain screamed at him. _What are you doing?_

Brienne’s brows knitted in confusion. “You don’t even know where my room is. You’ll likely get lost once alone.”

Sansa quickly stood from her seat. “Why don’t you three stay in the Keep tonight. There are empty rooms in the wing where Pod and Lady Brienne stay. I’m certain we can trust you to not kill us off in our sleep. It will be a long day tomorrow and given the hour, the ride back to town would be ill-advised.”

A wide smile spread across Jaime’s face. “See. Now I have to walk you back because otherwise I’ll get lost and I might end wind up wandering straight into Drogon’s awaiting mouth.”


	8. Do Your Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne have a chat. Cersei makes new plans for the battle.

**Brienne**

The walk to the wing where Brienne had been afforded quarters was not too far from the great hall. Jaime walked closely at her side; his arm brushing hers with every step. The proximity was overwhelming, and Brienne wondered at how Jaime never seemed to flinch back in revulsion.

The past fortnight had been disorienting. Having Jaime so close, but untouchable, was like peeling off a scab from a wound yet healed. Brienne had long accepted that she would never be more than a friend, at best, to any man. Jaime’s men playing at his fabricated fondness for her for no other reason than to taunt Cersei, cut deeper than anything Brienne had previously experienced.

Biting her lip as they walked through the halls, Brienne tried to focus on the battle to come. She felt Jaime’s eyes on her yet again.

_Gods. Why must he stare at me so? Is he trying to decide exactly which lighting I’m ugliest in?_

“I’m sorry again, about earlier. My sister had not right to insult you.”

Brienne sighed at his words. “It’s fine. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Jaime grumbled at her side, but she couldn’t make out the words. Figuring it was for the best, Brienne kept walking forward and tried to ignore his staring. It wasn’t long before Jaime spoke again.

“I’m sorry about Addam and Bronn too. They can be… inappropriate.”

Brienne scoffed and glanced at him. “It’s highly inappropriate of them to be insulting their queen.”

“Yes, I know. Addam and I grew up together and times he feels more like a brother. I suppose sometimes he forgets himself. He has never been fond of Cersei. Of how she treats me. The men wouldn’t dare speak to her that way.”

With a challenging brow, Brienne met his eyes. “Even still. It is hardly appropriate and it doesn’t look good.”

Jaime sighed and looked down the hallway as they turned right. “I told Tyrion the same thing earlier. I can’t imagine what the enemy thinks of us.”

_The enemy. Am I his enemy?_

When they came to a room that Brienne knew to be vacant, she pushed open the door and waved him in.

“Sorry it hasn’t been tended to. The Starks doesn’t receive many guests and the staff is quite busy with everything else going on.”

She waited for Jaime to move inside, but he stared at her. “Where is your room?”

Hesitating slightly, Brienne pointed down the hallway. “Just a few doors down. Do you have need of anything?”

With a teasing smile, Jaime looked to her. “Yes. Can you draw me a bath? Fluff he pillows? Pure some more Lannister colors in here? Mayhap a bedtime story?”

_Truly insufferable._

Brienne rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the way he bit his lip. It was entirely distracting and made her stomach flip in that way she only came to associate with Jaime.

“Well, I’ll see you on the morrow then.”

Turning to walk away, Brienne was surprised to feel Jaime grab her arm. “Wait. Can we talk for a bit?”

_No._

“Fine.”

An awkward silence settled over them. Jaime ran his flesh hand through his hair and looked around the hallway. The distant sound of voices echoing off the castle walls floated towards them. Before she could break the silence, Jaime did.

“Can we go to your room? This one is as cold as the White Fork.” A smirk tugged at his lips, but for Brienne, it only reminded her of earlier worries and embarrassments. 

“Very well.” Moving slowly from the room, Brienne moved down the hallway. She passed three rooms followed by Pod’s before coming to her door. Moving inside, she let Jaime in before shutting the door. When she turned around, Brienne noticed him appraising the room.

Jaime’s presence in her personal space was unsettling. No one had ever been in her room. Not even Pod. Brienne didn’t have any friends in the North, only comrades. Whether they considered her a comrade was another matter entirely. On account of the lack of guests, she only had one chair at a table in the corner.

She offered Jaime the chair before tending to the fire. Like Jaime, she hated the cold. It was the one thing about the North that Brienne feared she would never acclimate to. Jaime sat down and started riffling through some papers on her desk.

“What’s this?”

Turning to see what he was doing, Brienne darted towards the desk. “Gods. You’re invasive.”

Jaime chuckled and teased her. “Are you writing love letters? I don’t imagine they’re for Tormund.”

“They’re not love letters! They’re missives to my father.”

At her words, Jaime’s brows furrowed. “Are you expecting the raven to come into the room to fetch them? I’ve often found it best to seal the missives and take them to a rookery.”

With the missives safely stashed away and out of sight, Brienne turned to Jaime and glared. “I’m not an idiot, Ser Jaime. I am familiar with how to send letters.”

The jest dropped from his tone with his next words. “Why aren’t you sending them?”

“I just… I write to him sometimes, but I don’t send them. It makes me feel like I’m talking to him without bothering him.” Brienne’s tone was matter-of-fact and she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Without looking to Jaime, she continued. “What did you want to talk about?”

When he didn’t answer, Brienne looked to him. He was staring at her with his mouth slightly ajar. “Uh… why… why don’t you tell your father how you are?”

_I do not want to have this conversation with Jaime Lannister of all people. He hardly needs more information to needle me with._

“That is what you wanted to talk about? I hardly know why that bothers you considering death is marching on us.”

Jaime looked to the side; his facial expression one of disbelief. “All the more reason to write him and no, I did not _intend_ to discuss that. I just… it’s odd. Aren’t you his heir? I imagine he cares to know how you are.”

“I’m the heir he was left with and no, I don’t much think he cares to know how I am. Now if you don’t have anything else to discuss…” Brienne looked to Jaime expectantly. Her brow raised impatiently as he stammered and looked around the room.

Jaime cleared his throat and sat forward. “We didn’t get to finish speaking earlier. After the war council. I should have defended your honor. I don’t want anyone thinking that I defiled you.”

_Yes, we wouldn’t want anyone to get the idea that a man would willingly lay with me._

“I’m happy to tell your sister that nothing happened. I know she won’t want to speak with me, but I will.”

Jaime shook his head and stood up from his seat. “What? No. What are you talking about?” He began pacing and rubbed at his face.

“Your sister. The queen. She is upset of course, but she’s just missing context. Of course, you wouldn’t betray her like that and…”

“Brienne! Stop. What are you on about? I told you that I don’t give a shit what my sister thinks.”

Jaime sat down beside her in a huff. He stared at the fire before looking to her. “I only care what she might try to do if she thinks that I… that we…” Gesturing between them, Jaime’s face flushed slightly.

Brienne felt her own face flame at the insinuation. “Yes, I understand. I just… I don’t intend to cause problem in your… relationship.” Brienne looked to her hands as they played with the hem of her jerkin. The room felt uncomfortably hot and Brienne contemplated opening the window.

_Why is he sitting so close?_

“Brienne, I have not _been_ with Cersei for a very long time. She is nothing more to me than my sister and Westeros’ queen.”

 _What_?

Shock tugged at Brienne’s features. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were having… issues.”

Jaime snorted. His tone dripped with disdain. “ _Issues_ would be an understatement. There is nothing to be sorry about. I realized some time ago that what we had was never love.”

Jaime’s foot tapped on the floor as he spoke. He continued looking around the room before looking back at her; a strange smile on his face.

Not quite certain what to say, Brienne looked away. She was never good with words. An awkward conversationalist by nature, she found her shortcomings exasperated by lack of practice. Most people were unwilling to speak with her for extended periods of time.

A heavy silence settled over them and Brienne noticed Jaime’s left thigh pressed firmly against hers as he continued to drag his heel back and forth across her floor.

She glanced at him and saw his face was flushed and his breathing labored. He tugged nervously at his tunic as though it was suffocating him.

“It’s bloody hot in here.”

Brienne scoffed and looked to the fire. “You’re awfully dramatic. Your room was too cold. Mine is too hot. Such a princess.”

“I am a Lannister. We can be quite needy.” He smiled at her teasingly, but there was a lingering anxiety under the surface.

Jaime’s nervousness began to make Brienne feel uncomfortable. She shifted on the bed and glanced towards the door. The room felt like it was closing in on her. Feeling less comfortable by the minute, Brienne decided to tell him that she was tired and needed rest.

She turned to face Jaime and their faces collided hard. Grabbing her face, Brienne cursed and rubbed at the impact.

_Seven hells! Why the hells was he so close? Did he just headbutt me? Why?_

Grabbing his own head with his left hand, Jaime chuckled and muttered to himself. “Perfect.”

“Did you headbutt me? Gods, Jaime! You can be such an ass.”

Jaime stood abruptly and looked everywhere but at her. “I’m sorry. I was moving to stand. I better get some rest. I’ll see you on the morrow then.”

Brienne stood and nodded. A lingering pain pulsated where their heads collided, and she smiled awkwardly. “Right. Do you need some firewood?”

Waving her off, Jaime moved quickly to the door. “No. I’ll be fine.”

As Jaime left the room and closed the door firmly behind him, Brienne sat back down on the bed. She covered her face with her hands and wondered what that strange conversation was all about. With a sigh, Brienne looked back at the missives to her father that she had tucked under her pillow.

Moving to the bed, she took them out. She had been writing him since the day she left for Renly’s camp, but Brienne never sent word. Usually she should would destroy the missives not long after writing them. The stack in her hands dated back as recent three moons ago. The last conversation Brienne had with her father played out in her mind.

She was standing on Tarth’s dock with all her belongings, ready to head off to Renly’s camp. Selwyn stood before her; his face unimpressed as ever.

“You remember what I told you. You walk away from your duties to Tarth and you walk away from your only kin.” His voice was stern and cold.

Brienne nodded and looked to her feet. “I tried father. Truly, I did. Three failed betrothals. A failed ball. I don’t know how to be the heir you need, but I can make you proud in this. I can fight for our liege lord. I can…”

“Enough. Get on your silly boat and go. You’ll be little more than a jape to Renly’s men.”

With a heavy sigh, Brienne chanced a glance at his face. “I’m little more than a jape here.”

Selwyn rolled his eyes and grunted in irritation. “Go then. Be a jape. Brienne _of_ Tarth.”

_Of Tarth. No longer Brienne Tarth. Just another name from the island now. I might as well have drowned in the sea with Galladon._

Brienne stood from her bed and threw the letters into the flames. She sent a prayer to the Seven for her father’s health and that he found peace.

**Cersei**

Cersei paced in her room at the inn. Her chest heaved with rage.

_Where are they!? Why have they not returned yet!? He’s with that beast. I know it._

Replaying the meeting in the war council, Cersei fumed at the revelation that Jaime was naked with the cow on multiple occasions. She grabbed the jug of wine and refilled her cup. Wine spilled over the rim as she set the jug down firmly on the table.

_I thought he merely respected the beast. How could he lay with her!?_

The thought of Jaime with the cow sent bile into Cersei’s throat. The image of his lips on her. His body pressed against her. Him _inside_ her.

Cersei’s mind began to spin with ideas. I need to get rid of Daenerys _and_ the cow. A plan formed in her mind. As a smile tugged at Cersei’s lips, she hummed in approval at her own thoughts.

_When the dead arrive, I’ll send Ser Gregor to presumably guard Jaime’s back. I’ll have him ensure the dragon queen dies. I’ll have him kill the beast when the fighting ends. I want Jaime to see it. I want him to watch his love fall._

The next morning, Cersei made her way to Winterfell with the officers. It had not gone unnoticed to Cersei that neither Jaime nor Addam had slept at the inn.

_Fucking traitors probably spent the night drinking and whoring. I bet that cow was mooning after Jaime all night before he sullied himself with her._

Pushing her way past the lines of men stationed outside the gates, Cersei wandered into the hall. The room was cleared out save for a few long tables pushed against the side wall. Cersei scanned the room, looking for her dolt brother and his insolent friends. The Starks sat at one of the tables breaking their fast.

When she couldn’t find them, Cersei sauntered up to the Starks. The cow stood rigid behind Sansa who was lifting a small spoonful of porridge to her lips. “Well look at you little dove. We could hardly get you to eat in King’s Landing. Now you’re just shoveling food right in.”

At Cersei’s words, Sansa looked to her with thinly veiled repulsion.

 _Yes, I feel the same way. Your time will come soon enough. First your false queen. Then your sworn sword_.

“Did you run out of food at the inn? Mayhap, like you, your private cooks anticipated a faster resolution.”

Cersei laughed falsely and glanced back at the cow who stood stoically behind Sansa. Her hand clutched the hilt of her sword. _His_ sword. “Strangely, my brother and his men didn’t make it back to the inn last night. Are they here?”

A hint of a smile flickered in the young woman’s eyes. “I offered them quarters here. They were quite enjoying themselves and the hour grew late.” Glancing over her shoulder, Sansa looked to Brienne; a smirk tugging at her lips. “Lady Brienne, is Ser Jaime still abed?”

“Apologies, my lady. I am uncertain.” The cow continued looking straight ahead to the back of the room.

Cersei bit back the scream threatening to push past her lips. “Well… can’t you have someone summon him? Tell him that the queen is looking for him.”

Sansa shrugged with indifference and took another spoonful of porridge. “Strange, I don’t recall Queen Daenerys having need of him.”

Cersei’s cheeks flushed with rage. She leaned close and spoke through gritted teeth. “I am queen. Not that foreign whore.” From over Sansa’s shoulder, Cersei could see the cow take a step forward and begin to unsheathe her sword. Arya stood from her seat and glared at Cersei.

At her back, Cersei felt the Mountain move close. A smile played at her lips as she looked between Sansa’s two protectors.

“Cersei!” Jaime’s voice caught her attention. Turning to the rear of the hall, Cersei saw Jaime at the entryway with Bronn and Addam at his back. His lips were pressed into a frown. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for you. Don’t look so irritated. I was just having a little chat with my friends here.” Cersei glanced back at Sansa who smirked slightly. The beast behind her had stepped back into place; her hand removed from the hilt of her sword.

Turning on heel, Cersei walked to Jaime. Her hips swayed as she went, and she narrowed her eyes. “Brother. Come. Talk to me.”

With a look to Addam and Bronn, Jaime nodded his head. “I’ll meet you in the yards to prepare the men.” The pair bowed to Cersei and walked out of the room. Cersei observed how Jaime cast a lingering look at the cow; his eyes pathetically soft. 

As they moved to exit the hall, Cersei grabbed his arm and pulled him into a vacant room. The Mountain followed them inside as Cersei shut the door.

“Where the fuck were you last night!?” Cersei glared at Jaime and watched as he exhaled in irritation.

“Lady Sansa offered us rooms here. We had to be up early to begin final preparations for battle.” His eyes seemed to be withholding something from her. Cersei could always read him easily. He was a terrible liar.

“Did you fuck that cow?”

Jaime’s featured contorted in rage. “No. I have never laid with her.”

_Truth._

“But you were naked with her.”

“Yes.”

_Truth._

“How many times.”

“Twice. Both times on account of injury.”

_Truth._

“But you love her.”

Jaime hesitated just as the cow did at Joffrey’s wedding. His mouth slightly agape and he looked to her as though she had gone mad.

“No.”

_Lie._

Considering her approach, Cersei played at appeased. “Good. Now, I have your orders for when the dead come.”

Jaime scoffed and glanced to the Mountain before looking back to her. “Let me guess? Kill the dead? Be quick about it?”

A smile tugged at Cersei’s lips. “You will kill Queen Daenerys during the battle. You will make it appear little more than a casualty of war. Make it look as though one of those things got to her. When we win this battle, I will be the only queen remaining.”

“What!? No. We called a truce with these people. It would not be honorable.”

“Fuck your honor. You haven’t any since the day you stabbed your king in the back. Now, go do your job and put a blade through the dragon queen’s back as you did her father.”

Cersei took a step forward and met his eyes. Her eyes. Wildfire.

Her hand cupped his cheek. “You promised to protect me always. It is your duty. I am your queen. Your sister. Your twin. Your other half. If Daenerys survives this war, she will kill me. You will ensure that does not come to pass.”

Jaime stared at her in shock. For the first time since they were born, she could not read his eyes. He swallowed thickly and moved her hand from his face. “As my queen commands.”

With a bitter expression and bow, he left the room to find his men. Cersei turned towards Ser Gregor and appraised him.

“Ser Gregor. When the battle begins, you will follow my brother. Keep him safe from harm. Ensure Daenerys Targaryen dies during the battle. When the battle is over, I want you to kill that cow. The tall, blonde woman that is always with my brother. Brienne of Tarth. I want him to see her die. Do you understand?”

With a silent nod, Ser Gregor’s bloodshot eyes locked on hers.

_Good. Today will be a good day._


	9. Light In the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dead arrive and the living face it head on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I referenced a book element a lot here - Jaime's dream on the weirwood stump. I LOVED this from the books. I of course manipulated it a bit and focused on certain parts for it to work here.

**Sansa**

Sansa stood atop the battlements with Arya to her right. It was pitch black outside save the flickering torchlight adorning the castle walls and the firelight from the pits below. They stared out into the darkness as a sea of living soldiers stood in formation outside the gates.

In the dark, there were no Houses. No banners nor sigils. You were simply alive or dead.

To Sansa’s left, Tyrion stood rigid and looked to the forces below. Just a few feet down from Tyrion, Cersei leaned against the battlement with the Mountain at her back. The queen’s eyes darted around the field and landed on her forces. “Ser Gregor. Remember my orders. Go, keep my brother safe.”

The Mountain moved slowly from Cersei’s back and down the steps. Sansa felt a cold child go down her spine as the zombie-like creature passed. The battlements practically shook with each step he took. Sansa’s eyes flicked back to Cersei who was still staring at her forces.

_Does she truly care if her brother survives this war? Does she have any humanity left in her?_

Tyrion snickered and called out after Clegane. “Enjoy the night with your dead cousins, Clegane.” A huff of laughter pushed past Arya’s lips at the words. Cersei sneered and took a menacing step towards Tyrion.

“Watch yourself tonight. Your big brother isn’t here to stand between us now.”

Sansa glowered at the woman. “Mayhap it is you who should worry. You’ve never been one to get your hands dirty. Tyrion however has a few kills to his name.”

With a sideways glance to Sansa, Tyrion smiled mischievously. From the battlements, someone called out “Rider approaching!’

_What?_

Sansa looked down to the field below. Disbelief pulled at her features. The rider approached and stopped by Ser Jorah and the Dothraki. It was difficult to see what was happening from their vantage point, but the rider appeared to be a woman. She was talking with the men, but Sansa could hardly make out the words.

Abruptly, the Dothraki raised their arakhs into the air. The woman’s hand came to rest on Jhaqo’s weapon. Within moments, every arakh caught fire.

A wave of flames dotted down the Dothraki lines from left to right. The entire field before them glowed from the flames. Loud war cries rang out from the Dothraki as the woman continued toward the gates.

Looking to her left, Sansa observed the shocked expressions on the Lannister siblings’ faces. Within moments, the Dothraki took off towards the enemy. A sea of flames lit the way before them, and Sansa held her breath.

_Are we truly sending in our cavalry right at the start? I thought they were warned against this._

Everyone atop the battlements held a collective breath. As the Dothraki approached their target, the faintest outline of the dead’s ranks could be seen. Sansa gasped at the horrifying sight.

One by one, the flames went out. “No.” The word pushed past her lips before she could stop it. Arya’s arm came to Sansa’s forearm; a deadly expression on her face. “Get to the crypts.”

Sansa’s head began to shake in refusal. _No. I want to know what happens. I need to know._

A sound rose from the field below. It was unlike anything that Sansa had heard before. A clawing, snarling, gnashing sound that was anything but human. It was equally deafening and horrifying.

Looking to the field below, a sea of dead things crashed into the left flank first, just as expected. The living soldiers were immediately overrun by the dead and the sound of blades crashing rang out.

 _Brienne_.

At her left, Sansa could hear Cersei gasp. Her next words were a mere whisper; a panicked look on her face. “Jaime.” All eyes moved to her. Tyrion sighed and shook his head. It was unnerving to see Cersei express anything other than confidence and cruelty. She looked smaller. More human. No longer untouchable.

“Cersei, we need to get to the crypts. The best we can do for Jaime and the men is pray.” Tyrion shook his head as grimaced at Sansa.

In the distance, the cries of dragons could be heard. Daenerys and Jon approached from the skies and dragonfire poured down on the Night King’s army below.

Following Tyrion down the stairs, Sansa looked back to Arya. A silent goodbye between sisters. As Cersei passed, Arya’s eyes tracked the queen’s movement; hatred writ across Arya’s features.

Sansa knew of Arya’s list and who was at the top of it. As much as Arya wanted Cersei dead, they weren’t Lannisters, Freys or Boltons. They did not murder someone under guest right and under a truce. Cersei’s time would come, but not tonight. Not during _this_ war.

They made their way towards the crypts silently. Tyrion grabbed his flagon of wine and flung it over his shoulder. “How much of that do you have?”

Cersei’s apprehensive tone at their backs surprised Sansa. Tyrion glanced over his shoulder and huffed a laugh. “What’s wrong sweet sister? Did you run out of wine barrels?”

When Cersei didn’t respond, Tyrion and Sansa exchanged a confused look before looking back to her. She was standing in the courtyard, seemingly frozen in place. Cersei’s eyes darted around. The sound of men dying rose over the castle walls and echoed in the courtyard.

“Cersei! Lets go!” Tyrion’s voice was no longer teasing. It carried a sense of urgency and Sansa was ready to leave the dolt standing there. Looking to them in panic, Cersei’s voice came out small and uncertain. “I shouldn’t be here. I should have stayed south.”

Tyrion huffed in annoyance. “It’s a little late for that now. Come with us or stay here. I care not! Dead things are going to breach those walls. When they do, I intend to be in the.”

As if smacked awake, Cersei’s lips curled into a snarl as she stormed ahead. Grabbing the wine from around Tyrion’s shoulder, she uncorked it and took a long sip. “Hurry up and open the damn door little dove!”

_And she’s back._

Removing the key from her cloak, Sansa unlocked the door to the crypt. The two Lannister siblings moved past her and inside. As they stepped in, Sansa pulled the door shut and locked it quickly. They made their way down into the crypt to join the other living non-fighters.

At their approach, everyone looked to Sansa. Not Cersei. Imploring eyes desperate to know of the battle above.

Sansa steadied herself and spoke calmly. “The dead are here, and the war has begun. Now we wait and pray.”

**Jaime**

Unlike the attacks near the Dreadfort, this battle was raw, unrelenting, and chaotic. In the initial wave of attacks, Brienne was overrun at his side. At the sight of her falling under a pile of wights, a fear unlike anything Jaime had ever known took root in his chest.

He pulled and clawed at dead things to free her. When he saw her sapphire eyes, it was only then that his breathing returned. Pulling her up, Brienne’s eyes went wide at the sight of something over his shoulder. She pushed him out of the way and raised her sword to meet the incoming wight, but it never came.

The wight went flying backwards at least ten feet. Both Jaime and Brienne looked to see the Mountain’s massive frame fighting off dead things beside them.

_What the fuck?_

Turning back to the throngs of dead things charging them, Brienne and Jaime moved rhythmically as they had days earlier. Jaime felt his blood sing as Brienne’s arms and legs brushed again him. Knowing she was there, alive and well, at his back gave Jaime renewed energy and focus.

_I need to keep her safe. I need to keep her alive._

The fighting dragged on for what felt like an eternity. From above, the living dragons cut through the dead’s ranks and the stench of scorched flesh assaulted Jaime’s sense.

The enemy had no strategy except clawing, slashing, and biting their way through. Unlike living enemies, the wights had no fear nor desire for self-preservation. Their objective was clear. Carve a path through.

_They mean to get to Bran._

The living’s plan was clear. Defeat as many wights as they could, but all those with valyrian steel would fall back to cover Bran when the time came. Wights began to crash in from their right side and it was only then that Jaime realized the middle flank was being overrun.

Grey Worm was calling for retreat to the castle gates as men began to push past one another. They would need to light the trenches and hope that the fire slowed the progress of the dead. As men began to fall back, a rapidly approaching snow squall approached from the west and blinded Jaime.

_He’s here._

With a shrill cry, the sound of the undead dragon filled the night sky. Violent winds kicked up and the storm blotted out the stars above. Jaime could scarcely see a few feet in front of him, but he felt Brienne’s presence.

Reaching out with his false hand, Jaime felt the familiar jolt whenever their bodies touched. “Brienne!”

She felled another wight before turning to meet Jaime’s eyes. He yelled urgently over the sounds of battle. “We need to get to the gates!”

Looking around, Brienne screamed out to the men. The rush of wind and sounds of war drowned out her voice. Jaime could barely see her from a few feet away. Between the snow and smoke, he could barely tell which direction he was facing.

The lumbering form of the Mountain stood to his left and sliced through wights coming straight towards him. A blast of blue flame from above caught Jaime’s attention. The Night King was at the gates; his undead dragon spewing fire at the castle wall.

_He’s blocking our retreat._

The great beast touched down atop the battlements. Stone crashed to the field below and the sounds of men screaming drifted into the night sky. The dragon began to torch the middle flank from the rear.

_He’s burning them all._

Visions of Aerys played out in Jaime’s mind. The sight of men set aflame in their armor and running past Jaime into awaiting death brought old memories to the surface. A hand came to his chest and grabbed the top of his armor. “Jaime! We need to move!”

_Brienne._

The living were caught between a dragon and wights. Their forces were getting squeezed in from both directions. It was a suffocating sensation and Jaime hardly knew which way to take Brienne. Then from the skies, aid came. Two lines of dragon fire from overhead targeted the Night King and his dragon.

With a shrill cry, the dead dragon took off from the wall to meet its brothers in midair. Regaining access, the living began to pour through the gates. Jaime could hear the dragons fighting from above. Shrill cries pierced his ears and the chaos of the retreat consumed him.

Then, Jaime heard a sharp cry from above. Different than any other sound he previously heard from the dragons. With a loud crash, a dragon fell roughly thirty feet before Jaime. Fire spewed into the air as the beast tried to right itself.

_Seven hells. The Night King downed another._

Jaime turned around and realized that he had lost Brienne in the chaos. The snow squall was still whipping around and making it near impossible to see. He heard a high-pitched scream from the direction of the dragon.

 _Daenerys_.

Running forward, the outline of the dragon came into view. It was wounded, but not dead. In a panic, the beast lifted from the ground and took off. Daenerys was left alone and vulnerable on the ground, surrounded by wights.

Cersei’s words echoed in Jaime’s mind. _“_ _You will kill Queen Daenerys during the battle. You will make it appear little more than a casualty of war. Make it look as though one of those things got to her.”_

Moving quickly with his blade raised, Jaime looked into Daenerys frightened eyes as the wights closed in. Without second thought, he began slicing through the wights to get to her. Felling the dead deftly, he stood before her.

“Your Grace, now would be the time to grab a sword!” Jaime yelled back over his shoulder as he continued striking down wights and using his body as a shield to protect her. Through the blinding snow, he saw more figures approaching. Unlike the wights which shuffled in an unnatural manner, these figures moved with purpose.

_Aid. Thank the Gods._

Ser Jorah, men from the Vale, Pod, and Brienne appeared. They formed a protective circle around Daenerys and began to make their way back towards the castle. Jaime felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see violet eyes darting in every direction.

Daenerys looked vulnerable as she clung to Jaime’s shoulder out of fear. In that moment, she looked so much like her mother. Jaime knew that he had to protect her. “We’re almost there. You need to get to the crypts!”

The queen’s eyes met his and she shook her head. “I can’t leave Jon! I have to call Drogon back and help him!”

_Fucking hells. Stubborn._

The thought reminded Jaime of Brienne. He looked to Brienne and his heart swelled. She fought with everything she had in her with little regard for her own safety. As they moved, Brienne fought off wights while keeping an eye on Pod. The boy was now a man grown and more than holding his own.

_Brienne wouldn’t leave anyone behind, just as Daenerys won’t leave Jon. Mayhap Daenerys will make a good queen. A better queen than my sister._

A large outline moved towards them as they neared the castle walls along the western side. The Mountain came into view as he continued slaughtering wights that clung to his back. Most of the left flank had retreated to the castle and the path to the gate was clear.

Somehow, Jon must have been able to light the middle trench. The structure was holding off the dead for now, but Jaime knew they were on borrowed time.

Jorah grabbed Jaime’s arm and yelled to him. “I’ll get the queen to safety! Go to Bran! I’ll meet you there.”

With a final look to Daenerys, Jaime nodded and took off running. He hooked his right arm Brienne’s waist and looked to her. “We have to get to Bran.”

Before they could get far, everything stilled around them. Suddenly, flickers of movement below their feet began and Jaime realized what was happening.

_He’s raising them._

Looking to Brienne, they both had the same thought.

_Run and get to Bran before we’re cutoff._

Running as hard and as fast as they could, Jaime and Brienne began slicing through anything attempting to rise from the ground. As they neared the gates, thousands of dead stood motionless; freshly risen from the ground.

_There are too many. We can’t defeat them like this._

Glancing at Brienne, he saw pure determination in her eyes. He would follow her to the ends of the world and back again. The determination in her eyes urged Jaime forward at her side.

They made their way through the courtyard and Jaime could see Jon and Arya near the entrance to the godswood with their valyrian steel drawn.

Jaime prayed to the Seven that Ser Jorah would see Daenerys safely to the crypts and then join them with his valyrian steel sword.

Entering the godswood, Jaime’s eyes went wide at the scene before him. Bran sat in his wheelchair under the weirdwood tree. His eyes were rolled back exposing only white orbs. Theon and the Ironborn were felling wights as quickly as they could, but there were too many.

Jon yelled to stand guard around Bran. Surging forward, Jaime cut through anything dead in his path. With a look of relief, Theon gasped for air as he reached back for one of the few remaining arrows.

Arya, Jon, Jaime, Brienne, the ironborn, and Theon formed a protective circle around Bran. The fighting seemed to go on for an eternity with a never-ending torrent of wights clawing at them. Suddenly, the wights stopped.

An eerie silence fell over the godswood and the snow stopped falling. It was as though they stood in the eye of a storm. Everything still and quiet unlike the outer edges of the squall.

All the wights turned to the godswood entrance and a dozen White Walkers walked forward. Walking in two rows, they split to the left and right as they entered; forming a straight line facing them. At the rear was the Night King. The wights formed a circle around him. A protective barrier between him and any living soldiers outside the godswood.

From Jaime’s back, he heard Brans’ voice. “Look for the light in the darkness.”

Glancing back at Bran, the young lord’s eyes were fixed on him. Then Bran’s eyes rolled back into his head.

_Truly? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that Bran!? Maybe don’t speak in riddles when death is staring us in the face._

Jaime’s palm was sweating as he raised Widow’s Wail. Jaime’s arm brushed against Brienne’s as he moved into position. His dream at the weirwood in the Riverlands played out before him.

In his dream, Jaime was moving down into darkness. Consumed by it.

Jaime looked to the dark sky in the godswood. It was pitch black. At the Night King’s entrance, the cold somehow snuffed out any firelight in the godswood, rendering the area impossibly darker.

In his dream, Jaime heard voices. ‘This is _your_ place. This is _your_ darkness.’

Jaime’s gazed moved from the sky to the left. He saw the faint outline of the broken tower. The scene of his darkest deed. Pushing Bran from the window.

In his dream, he heard his father’s voice. ‘I gave you a sword.’

Jaime’s head looked to his left. Brienne held Oathkeeper at the ready. Her eyes were fixed on the White Walkers and the Night King. Ready to defend Bran.

In his dream, a flame started at the edge of his sword and kissed its way down the blade. A silver-blue flame. In his dream, Brienne’s sword flamed the same way.

Jaime’s eye looked to his blade. A silver-blue flame shone on the edge. No. It’s not on the blade on fire. It’s a reflection. Jaime looked right and saw it. The dead dragon was atop the wall of the godswood. It’s blue flames spewing down onto men below. Its flames reflected in their blades. 

In his dream, the darkness was doom. Cersei’s voice. ‘The flames will burn so long as you live. When they die so must you.’ He remembered that his flames waned as he stood accused of his failed oaths, but Brienne’s blade kept shining as she rambled about needing to keep him safe. She swore an oath. She became the only light in the darkness.

_Brienne keeps her oaths. She is my true light in the darkness._

Glancing back at Bran, Jaime remembered his oath to see the Stark children home safely.

_I must protect Bran._

Jaime looked forward at the approaching White Walkers. The shrill cry of the dead dragon caught his attention again. Instead of the flames pouring down over the wall, the flames shot in and onto the wights.

_What? Why is he attacking them?_

Glancing back to Bran, Jaime saw the boy twitching slightly.

_Is he controlling that thing?_

Jaime’s eyes darted around. Ser Jorah was still not there, likely stuck behind the wall of fire form the dragon. They had four valyrian steel blades between them. Theon and his remaining ironborn had dragonglass spears.

_There are too many._

Jon engaged the Night King in a fierce swordfight. Jaime’s blade which still reflected the dragon’s flames clashed with a White Walker.

_Gods, this thing is strong!_

The impact from their blades sent vibrations down Jaime’s arm. The creature was pure force and no grace. Jaime dodged under another blow and rolled behind the creature. Thrusting his blade upwards, the creature blocked his attack and kicked him backwards. Jaime felt the air rush from his lungs a the impact. Gasping for air, Jaime scooted backwards in the snow and rolled left to avoid another blow. He stood and spun under a third blow before finding an opening.

He thrust his sword into the creature’s side and watched as shattered into a million pieces of ice. To Jaime’s side, another White Walker shattered as Brienne’s blade cut through her opponent.

Jaime could see Jon and Arya fighting the Night King. The pair ducked and dodged blows from the Night King, but the creature was too good. He hit Jon hard and sent him flying backwards ten feet. With the creature rounding on Arya, Jaime lunged forward to block the blow.

“Move!” Jaime knocked Arya out of the way and the young wolf rolled forward. As she stood up, she cut easily through another White Walker and the creature shattered.

The Night King’s strike was so strong that Jaime nearly dropped his blade. The creature grabbed Jaime’s right arm with his free hand. The creature’s hand was so cold that it sizzled and stuck to his skin. A hard boot to Jaime’s chest sent him back several feet and into the weirdwood tree beside Bran. Jaime’s vision swam and he saw double.

Looking to the entrance of the godswood, Jaime could barely make out Addam, the Mountain, and other soldiers pouring into the godswood to engage the remaining White Walkers. To his left, Jaime saw Brienne fighting another White Walker. Arya was pinned down by a White Walker, but Jon was surging forward to aid her.

Theon and three ironborn were fighting a Wight Walker to the far right. The creature was slice clear through two of the men in one blow.

The Night King moved forward; his sword raised high. Bran was alone. Unprotected.

Panic coursed through Jaime.

_Keep him alive. Keep my oath._

Jaime dove forward and pushed Bran with all his strength. In the moment, Jaime knew that he wouldn’t have time to deflect the killing blow and it would mean sacrificing himself to save Bran. As Bran toppled hard to the right, Jaime looked up into the darkness.

The Night King’s blade came slicing down towards him, but then another blade appeared in Jaime’s peripheral. Silver-blue flames kissed the steel as they reflected the dragon’s fiery breath from atop the wall. Before the Night King’s blade reached Jaime, he shattered into a million pieces.

Disbelief coursed through Jaime as he looked up at Brienne. 

_She killed the Night King!_

Jaime stood up slowly and that is when he saw it. The massive sword of the Mountain raised over his head and targeting Brienne. Everything felt in slow motion around him.

“Brienne!”

Jaime pulled Brienne towards him while spinning so as to take the blow for her. The momentum took them towards the weirdwood tree with Brienne’s back hitting the ancient trunk. Jaime brace himself for impact from the Mountain’s sword, but none came.

Jaime glanced over his shoulder and saw the Hound standing over the Mountain’s headless body. Blood and sweat dripped from his face as blood trickled down his blade. Turning to look at Brienne, he saw her eyes wide with shock over what she witnessed.

Bringing his hand to her cheek, Jaime captured her attention. Unable to contain himself, Jaime surged forward and captured her lips.

Their mouths were slick with grime, sweat, and blood, but Jaime couldn’t be bothered to notice. His heart beat wildly. It felt strong enough to push her entire body through the weirwood that she was pinned against.

The skin of her cheek felt simultaneously soft and gritty from debris. Her lips were soft and thick. Initially they were pressed firmly together in shock, but she relaxed, and her lips softened. When her lips parted, Jaime’s tongue darted into her mouth and swiped hers.

Jaime didn’t want to break the kiss and face the world around them. He wanted to stay there forever with her. Distantly, life resumed around them and Jaime knew he had to stop.

Pulling back his face to meet her eyes, Jaime saw shock writ across her face. Refusing to move so much as an inch from her face, he held her gaze as he spoke breathlessly. “I love you.”


	10. Life... and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dead have fallen and the living trying to make sense of what has happened.

**Brienne**

_He loves me? Am I dead? Are we dead? Did something hit him on the head?_

It was all overwhelming to Brienne. The battle. The Night King. Jaime nearly dying for her. The Mountain’s head flying through the air. Jaime kissing her. Jaime saying he loved her.

Brienne felt her brows furrow in confusion. “What?”

Jaime’s eyes were desperately trying to read hers. “I love you, Brienne.”

Brienne’s eyes clenched tightly, and she shook her head as though willing herself awake from a dream.

“Please. Say something.” Jaime’s tone was imploring, and his eyes searched hers. His throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously; his breathing labored.

Brienne struggled to believe the words. They seemed foreign in her head. Like a different language entirely. She considered what to say.

 _I suppose there is no harm in being honest. I am either dead and this is all a dream, or we are alive and he’s in need of comfort post-battle._ “I… I love you too.”

Jaime pulled her as close as their armor would allow. His right arm came tight around her back and his left hand came to the back of her head as he clutched her hair desperately.

_I don’t feel dead. Everything hurts too much and I don’t remember feeling a killing blow. I think we are alive._

“Bran! Bran! Wake up!” The sound of Arya’s voice pulled Brienne back to the present. Jaime took a step back from her as they both looked to Bran.

Jaime dropped to his knees before the young man and felt for a pulse. “He’s alive. Just unconscious. He must have hit his head when I pushed him.”

Arya’s eyes snapped to Jaime. “You pushed him!?”

Sitting back on his heels, Jaime put up his hands defensively. “I had to. The Night King was going to kill him. It was the only way.”

“I saw it. Ser Jaime speaks the truth. He nearly took the blade for Bran.” Brienne spoke urgently as she moved to Arya’s side. She could see the young wolf’s ire rising.

Joining them, Jon looked to Jaime and nodded. “Aye, I saw it too. Thank you, Ser Jaime.” Then Jon’s attention turned to Brienne; a small smile on his face. Brienne mused that it was the first time she saw anything akin to happiness touch his features. “I’m afraid you lost your title Ser Jaime. We have a new Kingslayer.”

Brienne’s lips tugged into a smile, but Jaime growled at the young lord. “Don’t call her that!”

With a gentle hand to Jaime’s shoulder, Brienne captured his attention. “Lord Jon meant no harm.”

The reason for Jaime’s outburst was clear. He thought the moniker tainted. It had a negative connotation, but Brienne knew the truth. She needed him to understand that.

“I know the truth of it. It’s an exaggerated honor he gives me. Not as great as the _first_.” At her words, Jaime’s eyes went soft and a small smile formed at the corners of his lips.

Jaime looked back at Bran while speaking to the small group around him. “He should be checked by the maester.”

Jon nodded and moved to scoop Bran into his arms. The Stark siblings made their way back to the castle with the Hound following close at Arya’s side. Distantly, Brienne could hear Arya reprimanding Sandor. “Where the fuck were you?”

The Hound’s gruff voice bounced off the walls of the godswood as they stepped over dead bodies as though they were little more than rocks. “I got here, girl. Leave me be.”

Standing from his position on the ground, Jaime looked cautiously to the Mountain’s body. His brows knitted together, and he seemed lost in thought.

“What’s wrong?”

At Brienne’s question, Jaime looked to her. “He tried to kill you. Why would he do that? He only does what Cersei commands.”

With huffed a laugh and looked at the massive carcass. “Honestly, I’m more surprised he didn’t fall with the rest of them.”

Brienne appraised the severed head that rested near her feet. The bloodshot eyes stood out in stark contrast to the creature’s pale and scarred face. She assumed him dead already. Not raised by the Night King of course, but he was an unnatural presence.

Jaime’s hand brushed through her hair and tugged her head to his. “I almost lost you.”

Brienne understood how he felt. She had watched in terror as Jaime threw her back against the tree to take the blow. Were it not for the Hound, the Mountain’s sword would have taken Jaime from her.

_Gods, mayhap both of us. A sword through us both in one blow._

“You almost got yourself killed twice tonight.” Brienne aimed for scolding, but the tone was laced with concern. It was Jaime’s way. Always throwing himself into harm’s way to protect others. Locke and bear pits and dead things.

A smirking Addam walked up to them. He waggled a brow and punched Jaime on the shoulder. “Took you long enough. Gods. I thought you’d never kiss her.”

Brienne felt her face flush at the words. Insecurity flared in Brienne and she wished that she hadn’t been so quick to confess her truth. Her mind and heart at war with themselves.

_Gods. Please don’t let this be a jape. I shouldn’t have said anything._

Then she felt Jaime’s hand in hers. His tone was light despite his obvious irritation. “I was working up to it.”

Addam guffawed and followed them as Jaime tugged Brienne towards the gates to the godswood. “Working up to it!? For years? Gods you work slow. I was ready to throw my name in.”

_Years? Surely, he exaggerates._

Jaime looked to Brienne; his eyes filled with mirth. “She doesn’t like redheads.”

“Ha! Fuck you, Jaime!”

They passed several of Jaime’s surviving men who bowed and looked approvingly at them. “Lady Brienne. Ser Jaime.” She heard the whispers as they moved outside the godswood. “She’s the one.” “She killed the Night King.”

Brienne didn’t want the attention and tried to block it out. She scanned the courtyard and prayed to the Seven to find Pod. As if sensing her worry, Jaime squeezed her hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Pod. I need to find him. He was with us outside the gates.”

Jaime sighed and looked around. “They were not far behind us when he reached the gates. Ser Jorah, Pod, and the Vale soldiers were going to take Daenerys to the crypts. Mayhap that’s where they are.”

They maneuvered around the fallen bodies and walked in the direction of the crypts. Brienne was taken aback by the number of living soldiers they lost. The smell of death hung heavy in the air. The castle itself looked as though it had been pulled straight through the Seven Hells and back out again.

_Gods. This will take years to rebuild._

As she took in the sight of everything around her, something caught Brienne’s eye. Queen Daenerys’ white furs stood out in stark contrast to the muted colors of the northern houses. Blood lined the furs and her body lay unmoving before them.

A group of Daenerys’ men stood around the body; grief heavy on their faces and in their tone. To the left, Jon came running back from the castle. His face was panicked as he followed Grey Worm.

_Gods. She didn’t make it._

Brienne stopped moving and stared. At her side, Jaime followed Brienne’s eyeline and muttered to himself. They moved forward slowly, and Brienne gasped. Daenerys’ head lay feet from her crumpled body. Ser Jorah was at her side and sliced clean through.

Then she saw his body. Pod.

Like Jorah, he had been sliced in half. His body not far from Daenerys. Brienne fell to her knees and covered her eyes. “No! No! This isn’t real.”

_Wake up. Please wake up. This isn’t real._

Tears stung at her eyes as Brienne screamed into her hands. She felt Jaime dropped to his knees beside her. His arms circling around her; pulling her close. “I’m so sorry, Brienne. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“He’s in two. Why? Why is he in two?”

_Did the White Walkers do this on the way to the godswood? The wights don’t have that kind of strength. Only the White Walkers and the Night King._

Brienne felt as though her chest was being constricted. Everything felt wrong. Her world was spinning. Tears streamed down Brienne’s face as Jaime tried to keep her head firmly tucked against him and away from the sight of Pod’s body. “Don’t look, Brienne.”

She could feel Jaime’s body twisting frantically as if searching for something. “Gods, damnit! Addam! Addam, cover them! That’s the queen! She shouldn’t be out here like that. Cover Pod. He’s one of ours.”

Brienne heard a rush of footsteps in the direction of the bodies she had been staring at. Everything seemed to be happening far away. It was as though her body was present, but her soul was drifting away. Then, she heard a familiar voice.

“That is NOT the queen! I am the queen.”

**Sansa**

Sansa stood in disbelief at the scene playing out before her. Moments earlier, the living had banged on the door of the crypts; crying out of their victory. A collective breath was released by everyone sheltering in the crypts as Sansa moved to unlock the door.

When they emerged from the dark, musty crypts, the first thing Sansa saw was Jon moving quickly into the castle with Bran in his arms. “Jon! Is he alive!?”

It was Arya who responded. “He’s alive, but he won’t wake.” Sansa pulled her sister into a hug. “What happened, Arya?”

Arya’s lips set into a wolfish smile. A pungent mix of dirt, sweat, ash, and blood covered Arya’s face and invaded Sansa’s senses. “Brienne happened. She killed the Night King.”

_Brienne. By the Gods, she did it!_

Sansa’s eyes moved in the direction of the godswood. She could see Brienne standing in a state of shock as Jaime Lannister’s hand was in her hair. His forehead pressed against her head in a rather intimate gesture.

Then she heard the frantic voices. Between the crypts and the godswood, a group of Unsullied and Dothraki stood in a semicircle. Through their limbs, Sansa could make out a white fur coat of similar style to what Daenerys had worn earlier that night.

_Seven hells._

Sansa took cautious steps forward and held her breath. At her back, the Lannister siblings emerged from the crypts bickering, but Sansa couldn’t be bothered to deal with Cersei. _Their_ queen lay motionless in a pile of bodies.

_If Daenerys is dead, we have no one to back for the throne._

In truth, Sansa had not been pleased at Daenerys’ arrival to Winterfell. She wanted a free and independent North. It wasn’t until Tyrion’s words that she questioned herself. She didn’t want to be like Cersei; desperate to hold power at the expense of what was best for her people.

Daenerys had brought them hope in the war to come. Dragons and an impressive army. They would have died without her. Sansa knew that now. The state of Winterfell was as shocking as the sight of the dead mingled together; a mix of once living soldiers and rotted corpses.

Beyond the crowd gathered around the body, Sansa saw Brienne and Jaime emerging from the godswood. They walked hand in hand, but Brienne looked panicked. Then her sworn sword saw the crowd and the bodies.

Judging by Brienne’s reaction, someone she knew was among them. Someone important.

_Gods. Please don’t be Pod._

Sansa moved towards her sworn sword and watched as Jaime tried to calm her and shield her from the view. As she walked past the group assembled around the bodies, she gasped at the gore.

_They weren’t just killed. They were massacred._

Jaime was screaming to his men for something. When Sansa registered his request, she looked around for something, anything, to drape over the bodies. The banners!

Sansa yelled to some Northmen standing in a circle. “You heard Ser Jaime! Cover them! Cover the queen!”

Cersei pushed past Sansa; her eyes locked on Jaime and Brienne.

_By the Seven, if she gives them a hard time right now, I will slit her throat myself._

Cersei’s voice echoed off the courtyard walls. “That is NOT the queen! I am the queen.”

The living queen stood over the pair. Her fists were clenched at her side as her face flushed a most Lannister crimson. From Cersei’s back, Sansa could see her breathing begin to labor as she raged above her brother and Brienne.

Moving closer, Sansa heard Cersei continue to berate the pair.

“Get off that cow! You look a fool, Jaime! I am the queen. You will give me a full report of what has happened.”

Without moving, Jaime looked up at her. Hate heavy in his eyes. “You are only alive right now because of Lady Brienne. By the Seven, Cersei… if you call her that again you will be walking back to King’s Landing on your own!”

Sansa moved faster to approach their side. She watched as Cersei stepped back as though slapped. Her hand flew to her chest as her jaw dropped. “How dare you! I command you to let go of her and give me a report.”

“Fuck off Cersei!” Jaime’s patience was nonexistent, and Sansa feared the repercussions.

The Lannister men slowly moved behind Jaime and Brienne in a protective posturing. Addam stepped forward and placed a hand on Jaime’s shoulder as he moved past. “Your Grace, I’ll give you the report. Why don’t we step away from the battle scene? This isn’t the place for it.”

Attempting to mollify Cersei, Addam guided her towards the castle. Several of the Lannister men remained at Jaime’s back as though guarding the pair while others dragged some of the fallen banners over to cover the bodies. The Northmen who had also moved some banners over stood with Jon and the Unsullied.

Shock was writ across their faces, and they began to whisper among themselves. Sansa could faintly her the words. “Now what?” “Do we have to bend to Cersei?”

_Now is not the time for this._

As people began to pour out from the crypts, Sansa noticed the horror on their faces and the cries of children. Sansa turned to the group collected around Daenerys.

“Take everyone inside, please. This is not a scene for their eyes!” As if shaken from a stupor, the soldiers began guiding the non-fighters inside and shielding the children from the horrors of war. Unusllied, Dothrkai, Cersei’s men, and Northmen carried young children and babes in their arms; rushing to bring everyone inside for what little peace they could find. Many likely lost loved ones to the dead.

Turning back to her sworn sword, Sansa could see Jaime whispering something to her. Sansa made her way over and grabbed Jaime’s arm. “She’s in shock. You should take her inside. I’ll have the staff send water up for you both to clean the gore from your faces.”

All soldiers would need to clean themselves. Those with a room in the Keep would need water sent to their rooms. Those at the encampment would need to use the springs or find bathing opportunity in Winter Town. It would be a long cleanup process, but they had to rid the castle of the bodies before rot and disease set in.

Sansa moved to Jon and Grey Worm who were both in aguish. Their queen had fallen, but to Jon, Daenerys was so much more. He had seemed withdrawn before the war despite his continued devotion to Daenerys. Sansa had wondered if there was discord in their relationship.

_I suppose it matters not. He is no better than Brienne out here._

“Jon. Please, go inside and clean up. I’ll have the men begin the cleanup process out here. We will grieve the fallen later and give Daenerys a proper funeral. A funeral befitting a queen.”

At her words, Jon nodded wordlessly and spoke in hushed tones to Grey Worm. The Unsullied commander nodded solemnly and spoke in valyrian to his men. Slowly, the men collected their queen and moved her body towards the crypt.

“We’ll keep her in the crypts temporarily. I don’t want her body thrown into piles with the rest.” The pain in Jon’s voice was evident. He was hurting.

Sansa nodded, but grabbed his arm before he left. “Please. Have them move Pod’s body there too. He deserves a more intimate sendoff.” A deep understanding shone in Jon’s eyes. He gave the orders to the men to see Pod’s body moved into the crypts.

With a heavy sigh, Sansa turned towards the castle. She would need to ensure the staff had water sent to Brienne’s room and Jon’s room. It was then that she saw Tyrion sitting on the ground. Tears stained his cheeks, but no noise left his lips.

Something about his broken state tore at Sansa’s heart. She moved to sit beside him in companionable silence. Taking his hand in hers, they sat wordless for some time. Eventually, Sansa cleared her throat and looked to him.

“I’m sorry, Tyrion. She would have made a fine queen. She saved us all. All of you did. You had the right of it.”

Tyrion nodded wordlessly and looked to her. His eyes a pool of unshed tears. “I can’t do it. I can’t stay in Westeros with _her_.”

Sansa understood. He didn’t need to say more because the same concern plagued her thoughts.

“I do believe we share in that sentiment. Lets not think on it now. We’ll come up with a plan, but tonight, we need to clear out the dead. We need to grieve the fallen. We should celebrate them. Celebrate life.”

Tyrion nodded and slowly stood up. He offered a hand to Sansa and then looked around. “I need to find my brother. Gods, I pray he survived this.”

A knowing smile pulled at Sansa’s features. At the sight, Tyrion’s brows furrowed. “Your brother seems to have left this battle with more than his life. If you wish to see him, you’ll need to visit Lady Brienne’s room. I sent them there to wash up.”

Tyrion exhaled and shook his head. “I had not expected anything good to come out of this.” Gesturing around them, Tyrion sighed. “I’m glad something did.”

Sansa and Tyrion moved into the castle. Flagging down several attendants who were bustling about, Sansa informed them to begin sending water up to the rooms of the officers and their Lord. She decided it best to bring the water to Brienne’s room herself.

Brienne was an unwed noblewoman and Sansa had sent her off with Jaime. The last thing Sansa wanted was the staff starting any rumors that might embarrass her sworn sword. She grabbed a basin of water and moved quietly towards Brienne’s room.

Sansa’s heart sank slightly as she passed Pod’s room.

_I’ll need to clean out the room for Brienne. She is going to struggle with this. Pod was like a son to her._

Arriving at Brienne’s room, she heard no movement nor voices inside. It struck her as odd and Sansa wondered if they went to the room that Jaime had occupied the night prior. Glancing down the hallway, she saw the door to Jaime’s room open.

 _Strange_. _I suppose I should at least drop off the water._

Pushing open the door to Brienne’s room, Sansa stepped inside and froze. With their armor divested in piles on the floor, Brienne and Jaime were asleep in the bed clinging to one another in their dirty clothing; their faces still covered in grime.

Moving quietly into the room, Sansa dropped off the water and some clean linens before moving out and closing the door quietly behind her. A sad smile tugged at her lips.

_I need to keep them safe from Cersei. I need to keep my people safe from Cersei. First we grieve. Then we plan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. I hate this. I tried to give a warning at the beginning of this fic that there would be tough deaths here.


	11. A Celebration of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the funerals are held, the living celebrate.

**Jaime**

Two days had passed since the dead fell and did not rise again. A day since the funerals; both public and private. Jon led a mass funeral for the fallen as every contingent stood shoulder to shoulder and mourned. Everyone was there. Everyone except Cersei.

Cersei was at Winter Town. She claimed the stench was too much to bear and informed Jaime that she would mourn privately. Jaime knew it was bullshit.

_If it doesn’t concern someone or something she loves, she cares not. The only thing she loves is the crown. Would she have attended if I died?_

After the public funeral, there was a private ceremony held first for Pod and then for Daenerys. Jaime watched Daenerys’ funeral from afar. It didn’t feel right to join, and he somehow felt responsible.

_Should I have aided them in getting her to the crypts? Would I have made it to Bran in time if I hadn’t left them? Would the Whites have killed me so violently too?_

Jaime sat on a rockwall in the distance as Daenerys’ forces mourned their queen and Jon spoke. The Starks and Brienne stood beside him with solemn expressions on their faces. 

_They lost their queen. A queen worth mourning. I highly doubt our forces would have mourned like this for Cersei._

He watched Brienne as closely as the distance would allow. She was physically there, but somehow absent. There was something missing in her eyes since they found Pod’s lifeless body. A light that Jaime always saw there had been snuffed out.

Before the dragon queen’s farewell began, they had the private funeral for Pod. It was smaller by comparison, but soldiers from multiple camps attended. Soldiers from the North and the Vale who had come to know and respect Pod attended. Jaime, Bronn, and a few of the men from the West attended. Out of respect for Brienne, the Starks attended. It was a private sendoff that Sansa wanted to afford Brienne for the young man who was like Brienne’s son.

Jaime’s heart broke for Brienne. He thought back on the day he sent Pod off with her.

_“I almost forgot. I have one more gift.” She was not pleased with me. “He’ll slow me down.”_

Jaime couldn’t begin to fathom what they had endured together in their quest to find Sansa. A bond forged through adversity much like their own. The difference was that Pod was just a boy when he set out with Brienne. Pod needed just as much protection as the Stark girls did.

_Another oath. Find Lady Catelyn’s daughter. Watch over Pod. She did it all, yet now she blames herself for Pod’s death in battle while she was off killing the Night King and saving humanity._

The events of that battle still perplexed Jaime. He worried that Cersei had a hand in Daenerys’ death and by consequence, those trying to see Daenerys to the safety of the crypts. Jaime felt sick to his stomach that his sister could have done this.

_Pod would have fought for Daenerys when that monster charged in. That’s how Brienne trained him. Never retreat and fight for those you are sworn to protect._

Jaime also worried that Cersei gave the order to see Brienne harmed or killed. Cersei was never one to share what she deemed hers. Even if Cersei didn’t love Jaime in the way he thought she once had, he felt it unlikely that Cersei would allow another woman to have him.

Jaime didn’t want to think on it. He didn’t want to confront the possibility of Cersei’s hand in such tragic events. He was content to live in ignorance and not have to confront it. Westeros had one queen now. There would be no second war.

While there was no war to come, there was a decision to come. Jaime would need to leave command of Cersei’s army to someone else. He hadn’t asked Brienne yet, but he wanted to marry her. He couldn’t see a future where she wasn’t in it.

_Would Cersei even allow that? Would Brienne want to marry me? Would Brienne leave the Stark girls for me?_

Jaime was shaken from his thoughts as the funeral for Daenerys concluded. He hopped off the rock wall and approached Brienne. It was still odd not seeing her in armor these past few days. For most of their acquaintance, she walked around ready for battle.

Jaime mused it fitting. As her literal armor was shed, so was her figurative armor. She was vulnerable and haunted after the battle. Nightmares plagued her and Jaime could see the dark lines under her eyes. Last night, Jaime awoke to find her wandering the battlements and looking to the sky.

A forced smile tugged at her lips when their eyes met. It had taken great restraint on Jaime’s part to not discuss the future with her these past two days, but he knew it wasn’t the time to raise such topics. She was hurting and Jaime was determined to be there for her.

“What can I do? Do you want to spar? To eat? To drink? To complain about Tormund?”

At the last suggestion, she at least offered a small laugh. Brienne sighed and looked around the yards. Most of the soldiers had cleared out to their respective camps. “Lady Sansa is to have a feast tonight. She thinks it might lift everyone’s spirits. I suppose a way to honor the sacrifice of those who died.”

Her face fell slightly at the last words and Jaime could do little more than tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Considering Brienne’s response, Jaime assumed the offer was not extended to Cersei’s forces.

It had been strange seeing such comradery between his men and the other contingents, but a shared foe as daunting as death was certainly enough to push former enemies together. How long that comradery would last was the question.

Jaime was surprised to see Sansa approach them. “Ser Jaime. I trust Lady Brienne has told you of the feast?”

Bowing at her approach, Jaime glanced to Brienne before responding. “She has. It’s a nice gesture you offer your people.” His words were sincere and devoid of his usual snark, but he was surprised at the confused look on her face.

“The last I checked, we won this war with the aid of your forces. Without your military advice and strategy, I’m not certain we would have prevailed. All are welcome… even your queen.”

 _Your queen too_.

“Well that’s quite kind of you. I’ll tell the men, but I make no promises of my ability to control Ser Bronn. It might be best to warn the serving girls if you open your gates to him.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips when she looked to Brienne. “I think it will do everyone some good. Everyone, Brienne. I expect you there.”

“My lady, someone should stand guard so the forces can relax. I will take the position. I’m not one for this type of event.” Brienne’s protests were met with a dismissive hand from Sansa.

“What exactly are you guarding from, Lady Brienne? The dead are gone. The only potential threat to the North will be in my halls and drinking with us.”

It had not occurred to Jaime that Brienne would have avoided the feast while the rest of her comrades celebrated. He decided to needle her and coerce her into having fun.

“That’s very diligent, _Lady Brienne_. Very responsible. I can promise you that my men will be on their best behavior. No need to stand guard.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and muttered slightly. With a bow of her head to Lady Sansa, she relented. As Sansa moved inside, Jaime smiled widely at her. “Now you have to dance with me. I can’t have Tormund trying to occupy your time.”

With a snort, Brienne looked away. “I don’t dance. Not anymore.”

Jaime feigned insult and scoffed. “Why not?”

A shadow crossed over her face. Her words came out a whisper as she looked back to where the funerals were held. “Pod knew why.”

 _Seven hells._ With a heavy sigh, Jaime grabbed her hand. “You can tell me. You can tell me anything you told him and hopefully more.”

Brienne hummed as though lost in though. The fading afternoon sun caught her face making her freckles stand out and her hair shine brightly in contrast to the dreary landscape of the North. “I should head inside and bathe. I smell like a funeral pyre.”

“Right. Well, I’ll let my men know that they’re allowed to get drunk _inside_ the castle walls as opposed to _outside_. They’ll be quite excited for that. Dancing over Ned Stark’s grave.”

As they parted ways, Jaime glanced back at her retreat into the castle. He was determined to see her smile properly that night.

**Brienne**

Brienne heard a knock at her door. She knew the feast had already begun, but she was procrastinating her arrival. It still felt odd to celebrate with the memory of Pod’s death still fresh in her mind. She was also leery of making a fool of herself.

The last time Brienne attended such an event, she was mocked and Renly had stepped in to save her from complete embarrassment.

_Mayhap Jaime will save me from such an embarrassment tonight._

Brienne knew that she could be socially awkward, and tonight would likely highlight that fact. After her bath, she dressed in clean attire that Sansa had provided for her. Dark breeches with a cream-colored tunic and a blue jerkin in her House’s colors. Sansa had encouraged her to wear the outfit that night, likely thinking it would be a nice reminder of home.

Brienne didn’t have the heart to tell Sansa of the tortured memories her island brought her. She accepted the gift with a warm smile, but had almost preferred the muted colors of the North. They didn’t remind her of Tarth, and it made it easier to blend in. She didn’t want to stand out in the crowd. She wanted to go unseen.

_Blend in. As if I ever could. A great beast of a woman such as I. I still don’t know why Jaime wishes to be around me. I don’t see how he could love me. Mayhap its just a desire to distance himself from Cersei. There is obvious discord between them._

Opening the door, she was surprised to see Jaime on the other side looking dapper as ever. He looked the part of a Lannister. His crimson, leather jerkin went well with his golden hair and skin. His green eyes danced with mirth.

As his eyes appraised her, a wide smile stretched across his face. On instinct, Brienne braced for a jape. _Gods damnit. I should have just worn my usual attire._

“Blue is a good color on you, my lady. Brings out your eyes.”

_What? This man is drunk, blind, or both._

“Lady Sansa made it for me. She thought it would remind me of home, I suppose.” Brienne’s voice was small as she quickly looked down at her attire.

“I saw Tarth once by boat. I would like to visit it properly. Mayhap you can show me around. Show me where you… what was it? Knocked the boys to the dust?”

Brienne cast a warning glare at Jaime, but he hardly seemed to take notice. Offering his arm, Jaime raised a brow. “Come along, wench. Your lady’s orders.”

They made their way to the hall quickly. On approach, Brienne could hear the roar of laughter and talking. Given the size of their forces, the celebration spilled into the hallways and the courtyard. It was overwhelming and Brienne felt her pulse quicken.

Jaime tugged her into the hall and immediately, Brienne felt suffocated. The space was overflowing and there was not a seat to be found. Brienne felt out of place and awkward. “You go sit with your men. It’s a bit crowded. I can move to the courtyard or…”

“Brienne, I think they’ll have a saved a seat for the woman who killed the Night King.” Jaime flashed a smile that was impossible to deny. As his hand found hers, they moved through the crowd and towards the front of the room. Sansa sat at the head table with Jon, Arya, Tyrion, and other council members. Bran was still unconscious, but stable. The maester was confident he would wake up any day now.

_Gods. The noise alone is likely to rouse him. Mayhap I should stand guard, just in case._

At the front of the room were two open seats at a table containing various commanders from all contingents. It was a surprising sight to see, but it was clear that this table was reserved for the lead generals. Grey Worm, Jhaqo, Tormund, Addam, Ser Royce, Bronn, Theon, and Sure Spear were talking loudly. Some other key leaders sat further down the table.

Not surprisingly, the Dothraki and Unsullied officers were more subdued. The North and the Vale lost their preferred queen, but Daenerys’ forces lost their only queen. Brienne appraised the table and considered the rank of the men already sitting down and enjoying the feast together.

_Oh. I can’t sit here. These are the armies’ top men._

At their approach, the men made a scene of it. They pounded the table excitedly and cheered out loudly. Addam and Bronn made more space for Brienne and Jaime to sit beside them. It was a strange sensation to be eagerly welcomed to a table. Brienne only ever ate with Pod and she often worried that she was holding him back from making more friends among the Northmen and knights from the Vale.

Full cups of wine were immediately offered to them and Brienne felt a slight nervousness set in. She avoided drinking in settings such as this. It only served to dull one’s senses.

_A sword should always be ready to protect._

As if reading her mind, Jaime leaned into her ear. “Relax, Brienne. Sansa only needs guarding from my brother who seems to be talking her ear off.”

Brienne’s eyes flitted to the front table and sure enough, Tyrion was in Sansa’s ear. They had an interesting friendship of sorts. An obvious respect existed between them despite no outward signs of affection.

The food was served, and the wine flowed freely. The hall grew impossibly louder, but Brienne was starting to feel numb to it. Her senses were overwhelmed with Jaime. His hand was either on her thigh or her back. His lips constantly at her ear, trying to make her laugh or reminding her to relax.

The men at the table were in jovial moods. Even Tormund was pleasant to deal with that evening. Of course, it wouldn’t be a feast if Tormund neglected to share a bizarre story or two. In a way, he made Brienne feel better about her social awkwardness.

_Gods. What is he on about? Giants milk?_

As the plates were cleared away, Jon called for the tables to be moved back so that more people could come into the hall. Some of the soldiers were moving to the front with instruments so the assembled forces could sing and dance.

Once the tables were moved back, Brienne noticed that Jaime seemed incredibly distracted. He kept looking to the front as though awaiting something. Whatever he was looking for caught his eye and he leaned into her ear. “I’ll be right back. Just don’t go anywhere.”

He handed his cup of wine to Addam who smirked at his exit. Bronn started waving to some of the men from the West who had just entered the room.

_What’s going on?_

Jon called for quiet in the hall and while it took a moment, an eerie silence soon fell over the hall at the Lord’s words. The room was stifling from the sea of humanity. Everyone was looking forward expectantly at the head table as Jon and Sansa stood at the front of the hall. That’s when Brienne spotted Jaime. He was standing near them with Widow’s Wail in hand.

In a tone akin to his eulogy at the funeral, Jon spoke for those in the hall and those looking in from the hallway. His voice echoed off the stone walls loudly.

“Yesterday we mourned the dead. We thanked them for their sacrifice so that we could be here today. Today we celebrate life. Everyone here came together to see humanity prevail. That said, we in the North have been remiss in something for _many_ moons now. My sister, who has been more a Lady to Winterfell than I have been Lord, is only alive today because of the actions of one person. Someone who has guarded her back since her rescue from the Boltons. Someone who led the Vale in the early attacks against the Night King’s army. Someone who defeated the Night King himself. Someone who should have been made a knight long ago but was deemed unworthy because of senseless tradition.”

_Oh Gods no._

From Jon’s back, Arya grinned widely and yelled for all to hear. “Don’t forget… someone who beat the shit out of the Hound!” At Arya’s words, laughter hummed through the hall. Soldiers clapped and cheered as the Hound chuckled and waved them off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You fuckers try to take her on!”

With a knowing smile, Sansa tilted up her chin and looked to Brienne. “Lady Brienne of Tarth. Please, step forward.”

_No. No. No._

All eyes in the hall turned to her. Bronn grabbed Brienne's wine cup and he tilted his chin indicating she should move. Brienne could feel her heart in her throat. Her mouth felt dry and she imagined her face was a most horrifying shade of red.

Leaning into her ear, Bronn whispered encouragingly. “If ya don’t go up there, ya boy is gunna come get ya and make a real show of it.” With a small shove to the back from both Bronn and Addam, Brienne slowly made her way forward. Tormund offered a warm hand and encouraging nod as she walked; a most surprising gesture of respect from a man who tormented her for near a year now. 

She was surprised at the encouraging expressions on the faces of those she passed in the crowd. Making her way towards the front, she noted the warm expressions radiating from Sansa and Jon as Arya stood with a cocky grin behind them. Tyrion was busy smirking at his brother, but Jaime’s eyes were what caught Brienne’s attention. The pride and love he felt for Brienne evident on his face.

As Brienne approached the front, Sansa tilted up her chin and pressed her lips together; a smile tugging at the corners. Leaning in, Sansa spoke for Brienne’s ears only. “I hope you don’t mind, but neither Jon nor I are qualified to do this, and our queen has passed. The knight who made this suggestion was more than willing and scolded us that it needed doing long ago. I couldn’t agree more.”

Sansa stepped out of the way as Jaime moved forward. “Kneel, Lady Brienne.” The look on his face told her that this was no jape, but the thought lingered in the back of her mind. Dropping to a knee, Brienne looked up at him tentatively.

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Brienne of Tarth, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.”

The room seemed to fade away around them. It was just her and Jaime. His eyes shone with admiration as he looked to her. As Brienne stood up, everything slowly came back into focus as the volume in the room increased.

The soldiers cheered and clapped at a volume that Brienne mused might bring down the remaining walls of Winterfell. Shouts of “Ser Brienne of Tarth!” and “Night Kingslayer” rang in her ears. Still, her eyes were fixed on Jaime as stared at her in awe.

She turned towards the hall and was surprised at the approving expressions of those gathered. Jaime stepped back slightly and Brienne stood before everyone in a moment that she had never expected to have. Even in her wildest dreams, Brienne did not consider anyone being supportive of her knighting.

Brienne spent her life believing she would one day die, and her name would never again be spoken of. No name in a book. No stories between people. No acknowledgement of any act performed.

It was a harsh realization when it hit her many years ago. The only thing in life that she could be good at, would matter little to the rest of Westeros. She was just an ugly woman with a sword who fancied herself a knight. A great jape.

Then she met Jaime. He gave her a sword and armor. He gave her a wonderful squire. He gave her his oath to keep. Brienne had once hoped that Renly believed in her, but it was Jaime who did. Jaime who championed her at every turn when the rest of Westeros kept laughing. Now it was Jaime who knighted her.

It seemed fitting that a woman who believed none of her deeds would be recognized was now knighted by the man whose greatest deed was misunderstood and maligned. Brienne wouldn’t have wanted anyone else knighting her.

Jon then called for the celebration to continue as Sansa came to Brienne’s side. Her dainty fingers tucked into Brienne’s elbow as she leaned into her ear. “Pod would have been so proud, _Ser_ Brienne. My mother would have been proud. Still, I think the proudest is the man just behind you and staring quite fiercely. Please, put him out of his misery and go to him.”

As everyone returned to their private conversations and the volume in the hall returned to its previous level, Brienne turned to see Jaime. True to Sansa’s word, he had _that_ look on his face. The one she had seen grace his features so often of late. Open and soft. The look that she couldn’t understand just days prior and seemed all too clear now.

_He truly loves me._


	12. The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feast continues after Brienne's knighting. She is the tag noted "major character injury" that I had placed.

**Jaime**

The wine was flowing, and the crowd was growing rowdier. Jaime had never seen so many men from the West laughing happily with Northmen before. It seemed a lifetime ago that their forces were trying to rip each other’s heads off in the Riverlands.

As shocking as the scene was, Jaime’s attention was entirely devoted to Brienne. She stood out in the crowd and not just on account of her height. She was light in the dimly lit hall. Her blonde hair and blue jerkin a stark contrast to the rest of the castle occupants. Since the knighting, the spark was back in her eyes and it sent a wave of relief through Jaime’s entire body.

The most radiant thing about her though was her smile. Jaime thought back on their acquaintance and could not think of a time he had seen her smile so widely before.

_Did she smile at all? I suppose I hardly gave her reason to._

When Brienne smiled, it was as though the rest of the room faded away. Most people smiled with their mouths, but Brienne smiled with her entire face. Her cheeks pulled up and flushed, bringing out the smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Her nose crinkled slightly, and Jaime thought it might be the single most adorable thing he had ever seen. And her eyes.

Every time Brienne smiled, it was like stoking a fire in her sapphire pools. The light that had returned to her eyes brightened every time her thick lips pulled back in a wide grin.

They were on the left-hand side of the hall with the lead generals and more men from the West. Bronn continued to roll his eyes and grumble every time a serving maid passed by and only had eyes for Jaime, but Jaime didn’t realize there were even serving maid’s in the hall. He couldn’t stop staring at Brienne.

Then he heard the familiar chords from the musicians at the front. Everyone’s voices lifted through the hall in the familiar ballad. _The Bear and the Maiden Fair._

The song had haunted them on their way back from the Riverlands. Jaime knew that he had to either make it their own, or risk seeing Brienne’s smile fade. Grabbing her hand, he widened his eyes in excitement. “They’re playing our song!”

Brienne cast a warning look his way. “This is not our song.”

Addam couldn’t resist and leaned in between them. “Oh… we have a song, do we?” The redhead’s brows raised in jest as he took a long sip of his wine.

“We do not.” Brienne’s tone was stern, but Jaime would hear none of it.

“Of course, we do! By the way, you never gave the gallant knight a kiss for his daring rescue. Very rude Ser Brienne. You can do that after you dance with me.” Jaime began tugging Brienne towards the middle of the room where others had amassed to sing and dance.

Brienne struggled against him and her eyes darted around frantically. “No, truly. I don’t want to dance.”

“Why not?”

Brienne continued to look around in a panic before responding. “There are too many people.”

“I only see you.”

At Jaime’s words, Brienne rolled her eyes. He laughed lightly and pulled her close. “Look, your lady is dancing over there with the mopey Ironborn lad. I didn’t think Starks were capable of anything other than scowling. Is that why you like them so much? You spend all day perfecting your scowls together?”

Before Brienne could reply, Jaime began spinning her around as others were doing. Soon, they were joined by Bronn and Addam who began mock dancing together.

_Oh Gods. They’re drunk._

Jaime had to admit, Bronn and Addam were quite amusing to watch. Both lacked regard for propriety and enjoyed a good laugh; even at their own expense. They were truly playing to the crowd and making complete asses of themselves.

Brienne must have seen them too because she let out a loud guffaw. The sound of her laughter was mesmerizing, and Jaime had to pry his gaze away so he could give his friends a hard time.

“Which one of you is leading?”

Bronn put up his nose in feigned distaste. “Just enjoy ya knight over there and I’ll enjoy mine.”

Not before long, Bronn and Addam captured the attention of two amused serving girls. Quickly discarding each other, they began to spin the girls around alongside Jaime and Brienne.

As the song hit its last verse, Jaime leaned in to kiss Brienne’s neck and whisper one of the songs more vulgar lines. “He licked the honey from her hair.” Brienne scoffed and swatted him, but he could see that she wasn’t truly upset. Then her eyes landed on something and her posture changed. “Oh no.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime could see Tormund moving quickly towards them. The wildling had a wide smile on his face and was staring at Brienne. 

“Time for the knight to rescue the maiden fair from the bear again. You are still a maiden, I hope? I only rescue maidens.” With a teasing smile, Jaime took Brienne’s hand and pulled her through the throngs of revelers.

Distantly, Jaime heard Bronn and Addam shouting after him as they swung their new partners around. Jaime weaved in and out of the crowd, hoping to both lose and irritate Tormund. With amusement heavy in his tone, he looked back at Brienne and feigned annoyance. “Duck down, wench. He’ll see that dour head of yours.”

They moved into the hallway and Jaime was shocked to find it equally overrun by revelers. “Gods. They’re multiplying! Usually this takes several moons to happen after a feast.”

Brienne laughed loudly again at his back and Jaime felt as though he won his first melee. “Now you owe me two kisses. One for the rescue in the bear pit and one from the wildling bear.”

Jaime gripped her hand tighter as they continued to make their way through the crowded hallway. It had been perfect timing for Tormund to ruin the moment. Jaime was growing tired of the feast and just wanted time alone with Brienne.

It was incredibly inconvenient to want nothing more than to kiss her while stuck in a room full of people. He didn’t want anything to think he was treating the first female knight of the Seven Kingdoms as little more than a tavern whore.

Jaime glanced back at Brienne and tried to talk to her, but the hallway was too small the voices too loud. When they came upon an alcove, Jaime pulled her towards him. “It’s too loud. I’ll never be able to hear you reprimanding me for that dance if we stay out here.”

Brienne seemed to share his opinion of the noise level. The expression on her face suggested that she felt entirely put out by the merrymakers. “How long will this go on for?”

With a slight chuckle, Jaime shrugged. “How much wine do the Starks have here?”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the question that was more a statement. “Gods, truly? They never have guests. They have barrels full in the cellars.”

With mock horror, Jaime met Brienne’s eyes. “Lady Brienne. How would you know such a thing? Have you been indulging in the Starks shitty wine without them knowing?”

At his words, Brienne’s lips pressed into an unamused line. Jaime couldn’t stop staring at them and it was maddening. He wanted to lunge forward and capture her mouth with his.

Pulling her further down the hallway, they finally reached the end of the crowd which was not far from their rooms. “My room has two seats in it. We can go there.” Jaime tried to act nonchalant, but he had little desire to sit. He just wanted to smash his face into hers.

With a nod of approval, they moved to Jaime’s room that Sansa had again offered for the night. He was learning quickly how to survive the North and had tended to the fire before getting Brienne for the feast. Throwing another log on, Jaime shrugged off his jerkin and threw it to the table.

“Alright. I’m waiting for your thanks.” Dramatically puckering his lips, Jaime watched as Brienne blushed slightly. She barely suppressed a chuckle as she placed the world’s most painfully chaste kiss to his cheek.

Jaime scoffed and feigned insult. “It was a living bear if you recall. And I had no weapon!”

With a teasing lilt in her voice, Brienne shrugged. “You shouldn’t have left Widow’s Wail in Arya’s care then. Tormund can crop up at any point.”

“Ser Brienne! Was that a jape?” Before he could needle her more, Brienne put her lips on his; effectively silencing him.

Jaime’s brain stopped working as his other head took over. Pulling Brienne close, he deepened the kiss. His tongue moved slowly into Brienne’s mouth. She tasted of wine and smelled like the floral soaps the attendants left in the rooms. Jaime pulled her lower lip into his mouth and enjoyed the fullness of it.

As Jaime’s senses kicked into overdrive, his flesh hand wandered up her side and cupped at her breast. He gave a small squeeze before rubbing his thumb across her nipple. When his cock pressed hard into Brienne’s pelvis and she didn’t move away, Jaime took it as indication she was agreeable to his touch.

He felt frantic with the need to feel her skin. Trailing his hand to the ties of her jerkin, Jaime pulled back from this kiss breathlessly to ask her consent. “May I?” Her pupils were as dilated with desire as he imagined his own to be. When she nodded in agreement and reached for the laces of his tunic, Jaime felt his stomach flip.

He had never been with anyone save Cersei. Wanting Brienne was not a recent development, but the opportunity to have her was still a new concept. Jaime worried that he would fuck it all up and send her running.

With Brienne’s jerkin off, Jaime tugged at the laces of her tunic and again looked to her for approval before pushing it back from her shoulders. As his own tunic came off, Jaime marveled at the sight of her naked upper half.

He remembered her body vividly from the baths at Harrenhal but seeing her this way felt surreal. Then he saw the scars from the bear and traced them with his fingers. Jaime toed off his boots as he pulled Brienne close and trailed kisses along the scars. 

_The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ played again in his head as he worked his way towards her neck and to her mouth. The scars reminded him of life and death. First, Brienne’s life and how important it was to him. How he would do anything to protect her.

Second, the death of his Kingslayer mask of indifference. Brienne reminded him of who he was and who he was meant to be. The false armor he wore was of Aerys’ and Cersei’s making. The mad sovereigns. A creature doing Cersei’s bidding no matter the cost and he would not wear it any longer. 

As his lips locked on hers, Jaime could feel Brienne stepping out her boots and soon they both had on nothing more than their breeches and smallclothes. Jaime’s arms circled her waist and Brienne yelped slightly.

“What? Are you alright? Is it too much?” Panic coursed through Jaime as he feared overstepping some unseen line.

“No, it’s just… the gold hand. It’s cold.”

Jaime felt his heart drop. He never took it off during the handful of couplings with Cersei between his maiming and the Sept explosion. Even though he had not been with his sister in quite some time, the expectation to have his imperfection covered hung heavy in his mind. His twin refused to see the mangled stump that reminded her of how broken Jaime was.

Brienne bit her lip and looked to his hand. “Can I take it off?”

“It’s unsightly. I don’t know if…”

Before he could continue, Brienne’s hands were at the clasp of the false hand and removing it. She silenced him with a kiss as she worked the prosthetic off. After she placed it on the table to their side, she appraised the stump and grimaced.

“You’ve not been taking care of yourself. These are fresh scabs.”

Jaime shrugged slightly and felt his breathing falter. “It gets worse when I fight. I think I might have clobbered a few wights with it. It’s horrible. Just… I can put it back on.”

At his words, Brienne’s face contorted. “It’s not horrible. You lost that hand saving me from rape. It’s beautiful.” Brienne placed a kiss to his stump and Jaime felt a warmth rush through his body like nothing he had experienced before. He knew in that moment that he was forever hers if not in name than in soul.

“Brienne. Will you marry me?”

At Jaime’s question, Brienne’s head snapped up to meet his eyes. There was a shock there that Jaime half expected yet hated seeing. He was prepared to kiss the shock away and make up for every horrible thing he said to her that made her question his sincerity. Before he took action, she smiled as she had in the hall.

“Yes, although I…”

‘Yes’ was all Jaime heard as his lips crashed into hers. They tumbled backwards onto the bed and Jaime moved over her body as he deepened the kiss. Between kisses he questioned her absently.

“Although you what? I only cared for the ‘yes’ part.”

Brienne tipped her chin up as Jaime kissed and sucked at her neck. “I wouldn’t make a very good Lady.”

“Good. I wouldn’t make a very good Lord. We can be shit at it together.”

Brienne laughed as he worked his way back to her lips again. Their kisses became more lustful and Jaime found himself carelessly grinding against her; his body seemingly moving on its own accord. Every part of Jaime was begging for her.

“Brienne. I need you.” His tone was desperate as their lower bodies moved together over layers of fabric.

Reaching for the laces of his breeches, Brienne made quick work of them and pushed down his clothes. His cock sighed at its release from confinement. Jaime tugged at Brienne’s breeches and she lifted her hips to help remove the offending clothing.

The feeling of his cock on Brienne’s skin was indescribable. He tried to commit every touch and sensation to memory as he moved against her. Their kisses became sloppy as more carnal instincts took over. With his cock at her entrance, Jaime met her eyes with the unspoken question.

Brienne brought her hand to his cheek and nodded her consent as she moved her legs apart more. Slowly, Jaime pushed into her and watched for signs of discomfort. She was so wet and tight, and Jaime worried he might spill before he was fully sheathed in her.

Jaime groaned and tried to regain control of himself; silently begging the Gods to not let him embarrass himself. As he pushed past her maidenhead, Brienne grimaced slightly, and Jaime paused. He trailed soft kisses across her jaw and waited for her breathing to settle.

“Are you alright?” His voice was barely a whisper as he fought the urge to sink further into her. Brienne shifted slightly under him and nodded.

Moving again, Jaime buried himself deep in her. The room felt as though it was spinning as Jaime took in the magnitude of what they were doing.

_Gods, it’s actually happening. I’m bedding Brienne._

Jaime worked into a sluggish rhythm, deciding it best to move slowly until Brienne was more comfortable. As he could sense her body relaxing more, Jaime quickened the pace. Her walls were tight around him and his cock was begging for release.

Pulling Brienne’s right leg over his hip, Jaime changed his angle and watched as Brienne threw back her head and moaned in pleasure. Holding the angle, Jaime pushed deeper and captured her lips with his. By some miracle, he was able to stop from spilling embarrassingly early, but he knew he couldn’t keep at this pace and angle much longer.

Soon her walls began to tighten around him.

_Seven hells. Don’t spill yet._

Abruptly, the door burst open and Jaime’s head snapped back at the intrusion. He imagined it to be a drunken reveler stumbling into the wrong room. He was ready to yell at the dolt until he realized who it was.

Standing in the doorway with her eyes wide in horror was Cersei.

**Cersei**

Cersei froze at the sight of Jaime and the beast fucking passionately. She had come seeking Jaime when she heard from the officers of the feast. Cersei had little desire to cavort with the enemy nor did she want her forces partaking.

When the men left the inn and Cersei soon realized that she was alone, she made her way to Winterfell and tracked down an attendant. She had the young woman show her to Jaime’s room, claiming she couldn’t find the room Sansa directed her to.

Cersei knew that Jaime had been staying there for a few days now. While she cared little for having Jaime in her bed, she refused to lose his loyalty. Even if it meant bedding him to keep him loyal, she would see her control over him restored. 

“Cersei! Get the fuck out!” Jaime screamed and scrambled to cover their joined bodies with furs.

Cersei felt rooted in place. It was as though her feet were nailed to the floor. Rage coursed through her body as she gawked at them in horror. Then her words returned.

“Get out!” She glared at Brienne as she spoke through gritted teeth. Walking further into the room, Cersei kept her eyes fixed on the great beast under her brother’s golden body.

“Cersei, I said get out! Now!” Jaime’s face was red with anger and the exertion of fucking. Knowing her twin’s cock was buried in another woman incited a level of rage and jealousy that Cersei had never experienced before.

“I am the queen and I said…”

Before Cersei could finish, Jaime had leapt from the bed and had his flesh hand at her throat, backing her up towards the door. Naked as his nameday with his hard cock bobbing about, he shoved Cersei from the room. “I don’t give a shit. Get out!”

Jaime slammed the door in her face and Cersei could hear him apologizing to the beast. Every part of Cersei wanted to breakdown the door and stab the cow with whatever sharp instrument she could find. Instead, Cersei took a steadying breath and thought through a plan.

She made her way outside to steady herself and strategize. I need the cow dead. I need to make it appear an accident. Cersei considered the circumstances. Everyone had been drinking and there are all manner of accidents when people overindulge.

Cersei pulled up the hood of her cloak to conceal her face. She took appraisal of the courtyard. Soldiers were openly fucking serving maids against the walls of the castle or anywhere else they could find in dark corners. Men sat around fires drinking and telling bawdy stories. All contingents mingled together in mirth.

Cersei’s lips curled in distaste at the sight and she moved quietly around the corner of the castle towards the godswood. It was quieter there and removed from the main flow in and out of the castle. Looking up to a shorter wall and battlement, Cersei saw something that caught her eye.

She moved past two smaller groups of drunken soldiers and made her way to the stairs leading up to the wooden platform connecting sections of the battlements. The castle had suffered immense damage from the war with the dead. Stories of an undead dragon terrorizing the soldiers from atop the walls had reached Cersei’s ears.

Moving up the stairs, Cersei began to walk towards one of the more dilapidated looking platforms. It wasn’t as high as the other sections, but it was perfect in how unstable it was.

Cersei took a cautious step forward and heard loud creaking under her foot. Applying more pressure, the wood began to easily break away under her feet. The wood appeared charred as though kissed by flames before the soldiers put it out.

Peering over the railing, Cersei could see that it was roughly 20 feet to the ground. Mounds of stone had been pushed up against the side of the castle wall during the cleanup effort.

_It would be a nasty fall and should kill the cow on impact alone. If not impact, the jagged stones would pierce her body effectively enough._

Cersei knew that she could not use a dagger. It had to appear an accident. A vicious smile tugged at her lips.

_No one has questioned me on the death of Daenerys. No one has questioned me on why the Mountain went after the cow. Surely, no one would question when a drunken beast falls to her death on an unsafe section of the battlements the night of a drunken feast._

Considering her approach, Cersei devised a plan and moved back inside the castle.

First, she found the dolt attendant who told her where Jaime had been assigned quarters. The woman was easy enough to find. She looked more interested in finding a warm bed with a soldier then actually replenishing any cups.

Cersei spoke in a commanding yet honied tone. “You there. My brother said that his friend, Brienne of Tarth, will let me use her quarters to rest. Silly me. I can’t find the room. Be a dear and show me to it.”

The northern girl looked more than miffed which inwardly pleased Cersei. She had little desire to appease these northern swine. “Yes, your grace. Right this way.”

The dolt walked Cersei back down the hallway and past Jaime’s room. A few doors down on the right, the girl came to a stop. “Right here, your Grace.”

“Perfect. Oh, how could I forget!? When the feast winds down and the revelers leave the castle, I need you to do something for me... or rather, for the lady of Winterfell. The reason I am using Lady Brienne’s room is because she won’t have need of it. Lady Sansa has need of her sworn sword. Some nonsense about guard duty. I couldn’t be bothered to hear the details, but Lady Brienne will know. I’m too tired to wake her myself nor should I have to. I’m the queen of course! I’ll give you five gold dragons in the morning to rouse her for me.”

The girl’s eyes went wide at the offer. “Yes, your Grace! Thank you, your Grace!”

_Simpleton. Anyone can be bought._

Cersei moved into Brienne’s room and sat in the lone chair by the window. The room was modest with few personal effects. Hanging from the fireplace was Brienne’s sword. Jaime’s sword. The visual reminder of what the cow was to her brother gnawed at Cersei.

_I should have seen this before. How did I not?_

As the hours passed, the fire burned out and the room cooled. Cersei nearly nodded off, but the sound of a door opening caught her attention. Cersei sat upright in the chair and watched as the great beast entered the room. She looked freshly fucked and smelled of Jaime.

Her jerkin hung loosely from her body and her tunic was crumpled. At the sight of Cersei in her chair, Brienne stiffened, and unease flitted across her face. “What are you doing here?”

“We are going to take a little walk. We have much to discuss.” Cersei stood from her chair and pulled on her cloak.

“I have guard duty.” Brienne’s voice was uneasy as she watched Cersei move towards her.

With a scoff, Cersei grabbed her arm. “You truly think your lady sent for you? The little dove is likely passed out drunk somewhere with a soldier between her legs. I sent for you. Walk with me.”

Brienne’s eyes narrowed in thinly veiled vexation and she shook her head. “I’m going back to bed, your Grace. I’m happy to speak with you on the morrow.”

“You will speak with me tonight, or I swear to you that I will take your lady’s head on the morrow. I am the queen and you will do as I say.”

Shock flitted across Brienne’s face as she studied Cersei. Wordlessly, Brienne nodded and grabbed her cloak. They moved in silence through the hallways and towards the courtyard. As they stepped outside, Cersei feigned nonchalance as to where to walk.

“Lets walk towards the godswood. It will be more private for discussing _certain topics_.” Cersei guided them slowly down the path she previously walked. Soldiers were passed out drunk in similar places to where they earlier drank and fucked.

“My brother is very important to me, but some things that he wants cannot come to pass. He wants to marry me, but of course the realm would never accept that. We fought about it before coming north and he is quite angry with me. I wish it didn’t have to be so.”

Cersei signed in feigned dissatisfaction before continuing. “It is also best that we forge alliances to strengthen the Seven Kingdoms. I need him to secure an alliance with the Stormlands and he has likely approached you on the matter. Or rather… I can _see_ he approached you about it. I won’t pretend that I am not jealous of it, but it must be so.”

It was a guess on Cersei’s part and she wanted to plant seeds of doubt regarding Jaime’s affections for Brienne. Glancing to the cow expectantly, Cersei watched as Brienne’s face dropped. Brienne cleared her throat and nodded slightly. “He has offered a marriage alliance, your Grace.”

Cersei hummed, but inwardly she was seething. “And you accepted with your legs spread. I bet you thought such a thing would never happen to someone like _you_. I can hardly believe myself that he was able to get his cock hard enough. He has always had an active imagination though. I imagine the wine and darkness helped too.”

Before Brienne could reply, Cersei put up a dismissive hand. “It matters not. I’ll see the alliance made. I just need you to understand what we are to each other. What we will _never_ stop being. As you can see, he will bed you, but he will also bed me.”

Feigning interest at the battlements above them, Cersei ignored Brienne’s stammered reply and spoke over her. “Is this where that winged beast landed!? I heard tales from my men, but I had not seen it.”

Cersei began to walk up the steps to pretend at inspecting the area. Moving quickly behind her, Brienne beseeched Cersei to get down. “Your Grace, it is not stable here. We’ve yet to reinforce it.”

“Oh nonsense! Unlike you, I’m quite light. I won’t unsettle the area. I wish to see what you all saw.”

Moving quickly towards the charred section, Cersei smiled as she heard the cow’s lumbering steps behind her. “Please, your Grace. We should truly not be up here. We can walk along another battlement if you wish to see anything.”

Approaching the area, Cersei pretended at losing her balance. As Brienne lunged forward to grab her arm for support, Cersei twisted her body so as to pull Brienne forward. The structure began to crack and wobble under Cersei’s feet and a genuine fear gripped her.

As she saw Brienne’s body fall past her, Cersei dove backwards towards safety. A heavy crashing sound filled the air around her as she heard Brienne scream. With a sickening thud, she heard the beast’s body hit the ground below.

Cersei scrambled backwards before righting herself to look down. The seemingly broken body of the cow lay rolled to the side of the stones. Blood pooled below her, and no movement came. At the sound of distant voices, Cersei scrambled down the stairs and back along the shadows of the castle wall. Hiding in a concealed area, she saw soldiers approach and begin to scream for aid.

One of the men moved close to the beast and felt for a pulse. “Get the maester! Quick!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear by the Seven, I did not kill Brienne off.


	13. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is woken up to find her friend seriously injured.

**Sansa**

A urgent knock at Sansa’s door roused her from sleep. Sitting upright in bed, she looked out into the darkness of her room and waited until her eyes adjusted. It was late. Too late for anything non-urgent to wake her at such an hour.

Shuffling to the doorway, Sansa grabbed her housecoat and pulled open the large wooden door. Three panicked soldiers stood outside and bowed their heads to her. A familiar solider with kind brown eyes and auburn hair began to inform her of an urgent matter.

“My lady. There has been an accident. Ser Brienne has fallen from the battlements. We brought her to the maester’s room, but she is in bad shape.”

Sansa felt her heart falter at the words. She charged from the room and jogged quickly through the castle. Calling back to the men, she peppered them with questions. “Who was with her!? Where did you find her!? Where is Ser Jaime!?”

The men kept at her heels and the same man who delivered the news spoke. His breath was heavy with ale and his breathing labored. “No one was with her. It was the battlements nearly burned down by the dragon. The one near the godswood. I don’t know where Ser Jaime is.”

On the way, Sansa found an attendant cleaning up cups and wine spills in the hallway. “Alinna! I need you to go to Ser Jaime’s room immediately! Bring him to the maester’s room at once.”

“Yes m’lady.” The woman curtseyed before turning and running off in the direction of the staff and guest wing. Sansa turned back to the men as she renewed her jog down the hallway towards the maester’s chambers. “Go rouse Sam Tarly. I want him there to assist Maester Wolkan!”

The men bowed and went to find Sam. Sansa’s mind was abuzz with thoughts. She wondered at what Brienne was doing alone on the battlements and such an hour.

_Brienne is too responsible to have gone up there alone. She likely followed someone to see them to safety._

Approaching the maester’s room, Sansa could hear noise inside. She rapped on the door, but didn’t wait for an answer before pushing her way in. Sansa could see blood all over the table as the maester worked to bind Brienne’s head. “Maester Wolkan. I’ve sent for Sam. What can I do?”

The maester stood over the bed working quickly. “Please, my lady. Those bandages on the table. I need you to keep pressure here at her head. I need to assess the damage to her ribs and back.”

Sansa did as instructed and looked to her friend. She had never seen Brienne so pale and devoid of life. Blood was already saturating the linen at Brienne’s head as Sansa handed the bandages to the maester. The side of Brienne’s head was swelling rapidly and Sansa could scarcely make out Brienne’s breathing.

Maester Wolkan worked in silence as Sansa held the linens in place. Soon, the door opened to reveal a tired looking Sam who immediately moved to assist the maester. The two men spoke of things that Sansa hardly understood, but the descriptions and tone sounded worrisome.

_Gods damnit. What has happened to her?_

The men continued to work over Brienne as someone knocked at the door. Sam quickly opened it and standing in the doorway was a very tired and confused looking Jaime. He had carelessly thrown on a tunic that hung loosely over his breeches. His hair stuck out at all angles as he was still rubbing the vestiges of sleep from his face.

When he took in the scene before him, his eyes went wild in panic. Jaime shoved past Sam and ran to the bed nearly knocking over the maester. “Brienne! Gods, what happened!?”

Sansa tried to capture Jaime’s attention, but he was hardly paying attention to anyone else in the room. “I was hoping you would know! Some of my men just woke me and said they found her outside, having fallen from the battlements.”

“What!? No, no, no. Brienne! Brienne, wake up!” The maester put a calming hand to Jaime’s chest and backed him up. “My lord. I need space to assess all her injuries. It was a far fall so yelling at her will not rouse her.”

“Why was no one else on duty with her!?” Jaime snapped at Sansa and moved around to the side of the bed Sansa was standing on. He practically shoved Sansa out of the way to get to Brienne’s face.

“Brienne, please. Wake up.” He put his forehead to hers and cupped her face. The maester grunted in frustration and looked to Sansa beseechingly.

Grabbing Jaime’s arm, Sansa yanked him upright. “What are you talking about!? On duty for what? No one is on duty tonight!”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. “You sent an attendant to my room to collect her! Are you drunk!?”

Sansa felt her blood boil as she glared at Jaime. “I am not drunk! I don’t drink. Not since… never mind. I sent no attendant, nor guard, nor fucking wight to your room seeking Brienne. Who came to your door? What did she look like?”

She could sense Jaime’s panic kicking in as he looked back to Brienne. Grabbing her shoulders, Jaime pleaded with Brienne’s motionless form. “Brienne! Please! Wake up! Why is there so much blood!? Why is turning blue!?”

At his words, Sansa looked to Brienne’s face. There was truth to his words. Not only was Brienne pale, but her lips were starting to lose color quickly.

Maester Wolkan didn’t look up but waved at them indicating he was more than aware. “It’s her lung. She fell on this side here. There is significant damage to the ribs. She isn’t able to breathe properly.”

Sam and the maester began discussing options and weighing the benefits and risks of each. Jaime said what Sansa was thinking. “Gods just do something! Please! She is dying!”

Sam ran to the shelf and grabbed a bellows. Moving to the side opposite Maester Wolkan, he placed it in Brienne’s mouth and began pumping the contraption together.

“What is that!?” Jaime was trying to get back to Brienne’s side, but Sansa pulled him back.

“Give them space. They know what they’re doing.”

“How do you know that! They didn’t even see that she couldn’t breathe!”

_Do you truly think I’m not questioning them as well!?_

Sansa took a steadying breath and met his eyes. “Panic isn’t going to help her. They are keeping her alive. Lets figure out what happened. Can you do that?”

From over Sansa’s shoulder, Maester Wolkan spoke as he continued to work on Brienne.

“Ser Jaime, we need to know what we’re dealing with before we provide treatment. She is lucky that she fell in a manner that her lung was not pierced nor damaged too severely. She would already be dead. Ser Brienne has several fractured ribs on one side that are impeding her ability to breathe properly. We need to set the ribs carefully and keep aiding her breathing if she starts to struggle again.”

“But what about her head!? She’s bleeding all over!”

The maester took a deep breath and looked to Jaime. “Head wounds bleed a lot. You’re a military commander who has seen many battles. I’m confident you are aware of this. We need to keep the swelling down so that permanent injury does not set in. To her memory or mobility… of that I cannot comment until she wakes.”

_What? Her memory? Her mobility? Will she even talk again?_

As if reading her mind, Jaime began to ask Wolkan nearly every question imaginable. “Memory? How much could she forget!? Is anything else broken. Can she move? Gods will she be confined to a chair like Bran!? How far was the fall?”

The measter sighed and again wordlessly implored Sansa for aid in dealing with Jaime. “Please, give us time and space. We will get you when she is more stable.”

Moving to the door, Sansa tugged Jaime along behind her. He began to make a scene and Sansa worried that it might take multiple men to contain him. She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. His green eyes were wild with fear and his breathing labored.

“I need you to help me figure out what has happened. I can’t do that if you’re in here yelling at them while they try to keep her alive.” At Sansa’s words, Jaime deflated. She could tell that it pained him to leave her side.

Silently, he moved into the hallway and began pacing back and forth. Jaime ran a hand through his hair as he tried to search for answers. “I don’t know who that woman was. She had brown hair… I think. I was tired!”

Sansa took a deep breath. “Did anything suspicious happen last night? Anything worrisome?”

At her question, Jaime tensed. “Um… there was a situation.”

“What situation?” Sansa’s voice betrayed her concern.

Meeting her eyes, Jaime’s face flushed a deep red. “Brienne and I were conversing in my room and Cersei walked in… unannounced mind you!”

_Seven hells._

“She was in the castle!? I was not even aware. What did you say? Did you piss her off more than usual?”

Jaime swallowed thickly and began to rub his forehead. “Well, when I say that Brienne and I were conversing, what I mean is that we were conversing… horizontally…”

_Oh Gods. Oh no._

Sansa put her hands over her mouth to hide the shock. “So, your sister walked in on you and Brienne fucking? And you didn’t think that could be a problem?”

“Well, I took care of the problem! I pushed her out of the room.”

“You are a complete idiot. I can’t handle this right now. I need to wake your brother and Jon and Arya and basically fucking everyone. I don’t care what your sister is to you, she just tried to have my friend killed! She is no queen of mine and I will have her head for this. You stay here!”

**Jaime**

_Cersei isn’t anything to me. Not even kin if she did this to Brienne._

As Sansa stormed off down the hallway, Jaime stared back at the room. The events of the night played out before him. He berated himself for not walking Brienne to her room. For not accompanying her to the battlements. For not questioning the random fucking northern girl who showed up at his door.

After Cersei had left, there was some awkwardness between him and Brienne. Jaime had moved back into the bed and sat next to Brienne as she clutched the furs to chest. When moved to speak, it was Brienne’s voice that filled the silence first.

“I should leave. I’m sorry about that.”

“What? Brienne. No, please stay. Stay with me. Fuck Cersei. She’s a hateful woman. Who cares what she thinks.”

Brienne’s face betrayed her trepidation, but she relented. Pulling Brienne to him, they rested their foreheads together. Jaime ran his fingers through her blonde locks and smiled absently.

“What?”

Brienne’s voice pulled Jaime’s eyes back to hers. Continuing to play with her hair, Jaime spoke quietly. “I’m just… I never thought this would happen.”

“Oh. Yes. I hadn’t imagined your… sister… walking in either.” There was an uncertainly in her voice that bothered Jaime.

_Does she think I care that Cersei saw us? Does she think that I love Cersei?_

“That’s not what I meant, but I can’t say I imagined _that_ either. I just meant that I never thought that _we_ would happen.” Suddenly Jaime’s tone became more urgent. He worried that he was fucking it up already and he needed Brienne to understand. “I wanted it to, but I couldn’t find a way back to you. I’ve loved you for quite some time.”

Brienne’s hand came to his cheek and her thumb rubbed lazily back and forth just under his eye. Surging forward, Jaime captured her lips. They kissed slowly for some time until they were soon joined again. Everything else faded around them. Brienne was intoxicating and Jaime couldn’t get enough of touching her.

After that, they came together once more before the attendant came. It had all been a blur. They had fallen asleep some time before the knock on the door. Jaime hardly understood what the girl was saying, but Brienne was quickly out of bed and throwing on clothing.

“What hour is it? Everyone must be asleep. So you’re to keep watch over drunken men passed out in corners?” Jaime couldn’t help the bitterness in his tone. He just wanted to hold Brienne and kiss her.

“I’ll come back when my shift is done. If… if you want that.”

_Why is she still so uncertain with me?_

“I much prefer having my betrothed with me than anywhere else.” Jaime’s lips traced her jaw as she sighed and wordlessly protested the orders from her lady. She soon walked out the door and Jaime fell into bed. It didn’t take long for sleep to find him. His dreams filled with Brienne and their future together.

He dreamed of their wedding. He dreamed of their babes. He dreamed of dying in Brienne’s arms at an old age; surrounded by their large family.

Now Jaime sat on the floor in a dark hallway of Winterfell facing the door to the maester’s room. He could still hear the two men inside frantically moving around and talking. Part of Jaime wanted to go into the room and hold Brienne. The other part wanted to storm down to the inn and strangle the life from Cersei if she did play a role in this.

Time began to fade away as Jaime was consumed by thoughts of Brienne. He prayed to the Seven to bring her back to him. To see her healed. He thought back on his relationship with Brienne.

Jaime had refused to admit his feelings for years, but he admitted it to himself now.

 _I’ve loved her since Harrenhal_. _Mayhap the beginnings of love before that._

Light soon filtered through the few windows in the hallway and the castle came to life. Two sets of footsteps and voices floated down the hallway. _Addam and Bronn_.

“Jaime! What’s going on? The fucking castle attendants woke us up. We both had the loveliest servings girls in our rooms. We saw your brother and Lady Sansa. They look like a proper mess and told us to come see you here.”

When Jaime’s eyes landed on Addam and Bronn, his friends stopped in their tracks. “Gods. What’s happened? Where’s Brienne?”

Covering his face in his flesh hand, Jaime started to sob. Someone was before him and shaking his shoulders. Then he heard Bronn’s voice near his face. “Hey. She in there? What ya gone and done now?”

“Jaime! Do we need to hurt people!? What the fuck happened?”

Through sobs, Jaime barely managed to get the words out. He told them of Cersei and the attendant and Brienne being found.

“I’ll kill her myself. I know she did this. Don’t you think it all too fucking convenient that the Mountain nearly killed her in battle and now this shit?” Addam began pacing before him as Bronn sat down beside him and stared at the door.

“Did ya at least get to finish?”

Both Jaime and Addam gaped at Bronn in horror. With a slight shrug, the sellsword muttered to himself and looked back towards the door. They sat in silence for some time. All three staring at the door.

Then Jaime heard shouting from inside. It came out muffled, but the words clear. “Hold her down! Get something for her mouth!”

Shooting up from his feet, Jaime rushed through the door. He was aware of Bronn and Addam at his back, but his focus was on Brienne. Her entire body was shaking as the maester tried to hold her down and Sam moved quickly to the shelf in search of something.

The maester looked to them and yelled for them to help hold her down. Wordlessly, Jaime ran forward and held down Brienne’s shoulders. She looked much worse than before. Her eyes were swollen shut and while the bleeding had stopped, the side of her head was swelling.

Sam moved over and shoved a long wooden spoon between her teeth.

“What are you doing to her!?” Jaime’s voice was frantic as Sam held the spoon in place. Brienne’s body continued to shake and the maester started muttering things that made little sense to Jaime.

“She’ll bit her tongue off, Ser Jaime. We have to.” Sam’s voice was calm despite the horror of the scene. Looking in a panic to Addam and Bronn, Jaime could see the concern on their faces as they appraised Brienne.

Turning back to Brienne, Jaime could see the veins in her neck and face straining. Her face contorted slightly in pain and some fresh bleeding started at her head.

_Please, Gods. Make it stop. Don’t let her hurt like this._

Eventually the violent shaking ceased, and Sam removed the spoon as Brienne’s head flopped to the side. Sam and the maester nodded at one another and a wordless conversation passed between them.

Maester Wolkan looked to Jaime and reached across the bed, putting a steadying hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “I need to go speak to Lady Sansa. Ser Brienne will need to be watched constantly. We need to keep her still. Those ribs need to heal, and we need to ensure she doesn’t hurt herself.”

“What just happened to her?” Jaime looked back to Brienne’s face as he asked the question.

“She is having convulsions. The injury to her head is quite severe and I worry it could cause permanent damage. All we can do now is pray.”

The maester looked as tired as Jaime felt. He moved from the room and left Sam in charge of Brienne’s care. Jaime hadn’t realized he was crying again until tears began to fall on Brienne’s shoulder.

Taking pity, Sam tried to offer small hope. “Her breathing is better, and she hasn’t needed the bellows again. I think setting the ribs helped. We just need to keep her still, yeah?”

Glancing to Bronn and Addam, Jaime could see they were unimpressed with Sam’s optimism. Even Bronn who could take nothing seriously looked downtrodden.

Hours passed as they stared at Brienne. At one point, Brienne had another convulsion that required all four of them to keep her body down. An attendant brought in food which Addam and Bronn happily accepted, but Jaime couldn’t eat. He couldn’t do anything except focus on Brienne.

When the door to the room opened again, Jaime was surprised to see three of the Stark siblings and Tyrion enter.

At the sight of Brienne, they all gaped; even Sansa who had seen her after the initial fall. Tyrion moved wordlessly to Jaime’s side and grabbed his arm. “You might want to sit down, Jaime.”

“No.” He didn’t care if the entirety of the North walked in and asked him for anything. He just wanted to stay next to Brienne and hold her hand.

Tyrion sighed and looked back to the group. “Jaime, we need to arrest Cersei.”

Jaime snorted and glanced at the group. “Good luck with that. You can’t arrest the queen, Tyrion.”

“She’s not the queen.” Jon’s voice filled the room. His voice was soft, but resolute. Jaime’s head snapped to the young lord. His face was wary, but his sisters tilted their chins up confidently.

A wide smile passed over Sam’s features. “You’re going to acknowledge it then?”

Jon nodded at Sam’s question, but Jaime couldn’t understand what was happening. His brows furrowed in confusion and he took appraisal of everyone in the room. Only Addam and Bronn looked as confused as he felt.

Looking between Sam and Jon, Jaime spoke inquisitively. “Acknowledge what?”

“My name is not Jon Snow. It’s Aegon Targaryen. I’m the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. My mother was Lyanna Stark. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen.”

For the second time in a matter of hours, Jaime felt as though the world dropped from beneath his feet.

_What? Rhaegar had another child?_

Sam and Jon explained everything and what additional details Bran confirmed. It all made sense to Jaime, but he hardly knew what to think. The room seemed to be closing in on him as he felt overwhelmed with information and emotions.

It was Addam who broke Jaime from his stupor. “Our men will protect Cersei to their last breath unless their commander tells them otherwise. You can’t arrest her without Jaime’s word.”

Addam reached across the table and grabbed Jaime’s arm, forcing Jaime to meet his eyes. “Jaime. Give me the order and I’ll see it done. I’ll escort King Jon to the inn with our men. We’ll arrest her.”

Looking back down at Brienne’s broken body, Jaime felt tears forming again. He turned back to Addam and spoke with certainty. “Arrest her.”


	14. Look Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne needs help finding her way back.

**Brienne**

The last thing Brienne remembered when she died, was that she was unloved. She just couldn’t remember why. Then she opened her eyes and looked down at herself. Her body was lying in a bed being worked over by a man she didn’t recognize.

_Oh. That’s right. I’m an ugly beast._

“I’ve been waiting for you.” The abrupt sound of a man’s voice captured Brienne’s attention. She turned to her right and saw a young man. He had short brown hair and brown eyes. His gaze was unnerving, and he seemed to look through her more than at her.

“Are you the Stranger? You don’t look as I expected.” Brienne’s voice seemed small as she spoke. Looking back to her body, she wondered why the man working on her even bothered.

“No, I’m not the Stranger and you’re not dead. You’re in-between. I was here once when I fell.”

The boy’s voice was ominous, and Brienne felt a chill go down her spine. Before she could ask more questions, the strange young man continued speaking.

“I’ve had many names in my lifetime. The name many know me by now is Bran Stark, but my predecessors had other names. I’m the three-eyed raven.”

_What does that even mean?_

“Stark. Am I at Winterfell? Did I know you?”

“You know me. You know that man too. You know many people who you wouldn’t recognize now.”

Suddenly, the door to the room opened and a man moved in quickly. His eyes were red and his face tear-stained. He began peppering the maester with questions as he sat down and took Brienne’s lifeless hand in his.

_He has one hand. He must be a soldier. Is he from Renly’s camp? How does he know me?_

“Who is that man? Why does he look so sad?”

Looking back to Bran, she could see an amused smile pulling at his features. “Sad is a bit of an understatement. He is heartbroken. He thinks you’re dying. His name is Jaime Lannister.”

“The Kingslayer! That can’t be! I would never associate myself with someone like him. I went to war for King Renly to see his House pay for their crimes. They put a bastard of incest on the throne!”

Bran smiled and took a step closer to her. “What was the last thing you remember?”

Brienne forced herself to concentrate and try to recall where she last was. “I was standing on the dock at Tarth, ready to go serve King Renly. My father, he… he disowned me.”

A small smile pulled at the boy’s lips. “That’s where we’ll begin then.”

The young man startled Brienne by grabbing her arm roughly. A jolt ran through Brienne’s body and the scene before her faded away. She closed her eyes in fear, but soon smelled the sea. The sound of seagulls reached her ears and the bustle of dock workers could be felt around her. She opened her eyes and observed herself speaking to her father.

“I remember this. I failed him as an heir and he disowned me.” Brienne felt her heart drop as she heard her father’s parting words.

_“Go then. Be a jape. Brienne of Tarth.”_

She watched her father leave her standing on the dock. It was surreal to be watching it all from outside herself.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“So that you could see what you neglected to see before. So that you can understand.” Brienne watched herself get on the boat with her head downcast, clutching what little she had to her name.

 _A bastard now_. _No one who cares for me._

Bran’s arm moved across her face as his finger pointed to Selwyn. “Look over there.”

The older lord’s back remained to them as he spoke to an attendant. Selwyn was a force of a man. Tall and broad. The only person who could make Brienne seem small in stature.

Brienne watched as the attendant quickly returned with her father’s horse. He nodded and moved to mount the palfrey. As Brienne moved around to see his face, she could see tears in her father’s eyes. He looked back at the boat and whispered to seemingly no one. “I love you, daughter. Gods, keep you safe.”

Selwyn rode off without looking back again.

_I didn’t know. I thought he hated me._

“He wrote you every moon, but he had nowhere to send the missives. He refused to name another heir.” Bran’s voice was matter-of-fact as Brienne watched the retreating figure of her father as he made his way up the hill to Evenfall Hall.

Brienne remembered. It felt as though something in her brain reconnected. An overwhelming jolt went through her body and she felt an intense pain. Grabbing her head, Brienne spoke through gritted teeth. “Why does it hurt?”

At her side, Bran spoke in a dull monotone. “You’re remembering, but it is causing your body in _their_ world to convulse. You’re too weak.”

Taking a breath, Brienne looked back to her father. A sadness touched her words. “I wrote him too, but I never sent the letters. Is he… did he die?”

“Not yet, but soon.”

Brienne turned to Bran in panic. “Why!? Is he ill? Can I help him?”

“Euron Greyjoy is going to kill him. Queen Cersei Lannister is writing a missive to have Tarth destroyed.”

“Why!? Have I wronged the queen? Why is my father to be punished for my crimes?”

“You will see, but we must leave this place now.” Bran turned to face the boat that was pushing back from the docks.

“Please, just a while longer. I want to see my father again. Just once more.” Brienne’s tone was imploring as she stared up at Evenfall Hall.

“My predecessor once warned me. It is beautiful beneath the sea, but if you stay too long, you’ll drown.” Bran grabbed her arm and Tarth fell away from beneath them. Like a bolt of lightning, Brienne found herself being propelled forward. She was in Renly’s camp and had just won the melee to earn a spot on his Rainbow Guard.

“King Renly! I remember. I bested Ser Loras!” Brienne’s chest swelled with pride at the memory. She had always loved Renly. He was the only man to ever treat her with respect and honor. To truly see her.

Looking back to Bran, she could see the solemn expression on his face. “Remember to look closer.”

Brienne turned forward and the scene before her was gone. Instead, she was inside Renly’s tent. Her cheeks reddened slightly as saw Renly and Loras kissing and talking. Brienne was no fool, she knew her love for Renly would always be unrequited. She knew that Renly loved men.

None of that mattered to her because she had Renly’s respect. Brienne recalled the ball on Tarth and how the boys mocked her, but Renly saved her.

It all came back to her again with another jolt and pain flooded her body again. So many memories hit her at once. The shadow of Stannis. Fleeing the camp with Lady Catleyn to serve as her sworn sword.

A deep sadness filled Brienne in the knowledge that she failed the only man who ever respected her. The only man who ever believed in her.

Then she listened to the words being exchanged. Her heart shattered as she heard Renly describe her to Loras as absurd. A woman’s in man’s mail, playing at a knight. Turning to Bran, Brienne could feel the tears at the back of her eyes and in her throat.

“You show me a father’s love that I thought non-existent, only to take away the only other man I thought cared for me.”

Bran’s eyes were devoid of emotion as he spoke. “Renly never cared for you. He was simply the only man who refused to mock you to your face. Instead, he mocked you behind your back. I have given nothing, nor have I taken away anything that didn’t already exist. You were merely ignorant to it.”

Brienne’s heart sank and then realization hit her. “I remember you now, or at least… I remember hearing of you. You were pushed from the Broken Tower. Lady Catelyn told me. She thought the Lannister twins did it. That you _saw_ them together.”

Bran nodded in confirmation and took a step towards her. “We have to go now.” With another forceful grab to her wrist, they were transported to Robb Stark’s camp in the Riverlands. It was nighttime and they were in a cage. Before her was Jaime Lannister. The same man that not long ago, Brienne watched crying at her bedside.

He sneered at her and mocked her. _“Is that a woman? Where did you find this beast?”_

Brienne remembered it all. Another sharp jolt to her memory. Another ache coursing through her head and body. Brienne remembered the charge that Lady Catelyn gave her to exchange the Kingslayer for her daughters. She remembered the never-ending days of being insulted by the nasty man before her. She remembered the Stark men. She remembered paddling his insufferable ass down river. She remembered the farmer. She remembered the fight on the bridge.

“We were captured. I had the Kingslayer in my care and I failed your mother.” That is where her memory left her again.

Bran shook his head. With the wave of his hand, they were in Locke’s camp. She looked down at herself tied to a tree; the Kingslayer across from her. Then the men came for her. Brienne watched in horror as she was dragged away, kicking and screaming.

“You’re not looking again.” Brienne tore her eyes from the sight of the men trying to force themselves on her. Bran stepped backwards to reveal the Kingslayer calling out to Locke.

His eyes were desperate as he called out. “Sapphires!” She remembered. The lie he told. The hand he lost. She remembered his fevers and nightmares. His emotional and physical abuse by Locke’s men. She remembered Harrenhal and the bath. She remembered the bear pit.

“He saved me. Twice. I don’t know why, but he did.”

Bran smiled at her and nodded. “He dreamed of you.”

Taking her hand, Bran pulled her through the woods. They came out to a clearing, but the area was different despite still being nighttime. They were in a field and Brienne was wearing that hideous pink dress. Dry blood was caked onto her skin and the pink fabric. She was laying on the ground unconscious with infection and shivering.

Steelshanks’ men were laughing around the campfire that they refused to let her near. She remembered that much. A few feet from her was Jaime. His body was facing the men, but he kept looking at her.

Brienne watched as he stood from his spot against the tree and made his way to the men. She could see him arguing with them about something and then demanding something from Qyburn. The men laughed and distantly, Brienne could hear their words at Ser Jaime’s retreat. _“Kingslayer’s whore.”_

Jaime walked back over to where she was sleeping and draped a blanket over her. He took out whatever Qyburn had given him. Realization hit Brienne.

“I remember that salve. It was a healing ointment for Jaime’s wrist. Qyburn ran out of it on the way back to King’s Landing and Ser Jaime was in immense pain. Qyburn should have brought more for our travels to tend to Ser Jaime.” Brienne’s tone was as annoyed as she recalled the situation when her fever broke, and awareness returned.

Bran offered a sad smile as he looked to her. “Qyburn brought more than enough… for one person.” At his words, Brienne looked back down at her sleeping form. She watched as Jaime spread the salve on her wound and then pulled the blanket higher before retreating to the tree.

“He did that every night until your fever broke and you were well.”

_Why? Why did he do that for me?_

“Time to go Ser Brienne.” Bran extended his hand out in a wordless indication that Brienne should take it.

“I’m not a knight. Women can’t be knights.”

A huff of laughter pushed past Bran’s lips. “Oh, right. My apologies. We aren’t there yet.”

Before Brienne could question the young man, his hand grabbed her forearm roughly. They were in King’s Landing standing on the King’s Road. Brienne was wearing freshly made, custom armor. She had a sword at her hip and was standing before Jaime and two other men. One looked rather vulgar and the other looked little more than a boy.

Then Jaime spoke and memories began to flood back in another jolt. This time the pain was worse than before. Everything was burning. Her body felt aflame like she couldn’t breathe. Her vision blurred before the pain slowly dissipated. As her sense returned, she watched the scene before her.

Brienne watched herself huff in irritation. _“I don’t need a squire.”_

Jaime threw his arms out to the side. _“Of course, you do.”_

With an annoyed tilt of the head, Brienne countered. _“He’ll slow me down.”_

“Pod…” The name came out breathless and Brienne felt tears pool in her eyes. “I remember.” Memories of their journey rushed to the forefront of her mind. Pod’s horrible attempt at riding a horse. Pod losing their horses. Finding and losing Arya. Finding and losing Sansa. Saving Sansa. Training Pod every day. Watching Pod grow into the man he was destined to be.

Something felt wrong though. A hazy memory in later events that had not yet returned. “He died?”

“He did. He died in the Long Night protecting the queen.” Bran’s voice was cold, and Brienne found that she had to look away.

“I can’t. Please, I can’t see Pod. It hurts. Something is burning in my chest every time I look at him.”

“Look closer.” Bran’s tone brokered no argument, but Brienne couldn’t. She squeezed her eyes shut and refused to open them.

“I can’t.”

She felt a presence before her and steeled herself. Opening her eyes, she saw Bran inches from her face. Brienne could see herself and Pod leaving on their horses as she looked over Bran’s shoulder. Bran tilted his head slightly.

“Don’t look at you. Look at him.” At his words, Bran spun Brienne around. Jaime was before her; an arm’s length away. There was a longing and sadness in his eyes and something else. Something Brienne couldn’t place, but somehow recognized. It felt as though she had seen it before, but there was still a fog looming over her.

_“Come on. Don’t want to keep ya sister waitin’. Ya know what will happen if she finds out ya let ya love just ride off with ya sword, armor, and Tyrion’s squire.”_

_“She is not my love!”_ Jaime grunted in irritation at the sellsword behind him.

_Bronn. That shit. I remember him._

With a sigh, Bronn placed a hand on Jaime’s shoulder and his face lost any jest previously there. _“Ya know ya can’t go with her. Ya gotta let her go if ya want her to live.”_

Jaime’s jaw clenched and Brienne saw tears pool in his eyes as he looked to the ground and darted away. _“I know that! Lets go. I need to let Tyrion know that Pod is safe now.”_

“He cares for me.” Brienne turned to Bran; shock evident in her tone. “I thought… never mind.”

“You thought your love was unrequited.”

Brienne glared at Bran. “I did not love... forget it. Don’t we have to go now. Isn’t that your thing.”

Bran chuckled before smirking at her. “Ah yes. _Very diligent of you. Very responsible._ ” Something about the way Bran said the words struck Brienne.

 _I’ve heard that before._ Before Brienne could think on it, Bran’s hand was on her arm. She felt pulled forward harder than before. Voices, places, and people seemed to rush by her. It was overwhelming. Too much all at once and she couldn’t think. Then she was outside a red tent. Looking around, Brienne could see they were at Riverrun.

Slowly, it came back to her as Bran stood at her side. “I was supposed to bring the Blackfish and his men to your sister. Ser Jaime let me through the siege lines.”

Then she heard that voice again and cringed. _“Ya think they’re fuckin’?”_

Turning around, Brienne saw Bronn and Pod standing together outside the tent she had moments earlier been facing. Pod looked aghast and insulted on Brienne’s behalf as they continued talking.

Bronn turned back to the tent and smirked. _“Well he’d fuck ‘er, that’s for sure.”_

From Brienne’s back, she could hear Bran guffaw and offer an unsolicited opinion. “True story.”

The pair continued to talk at her back while Brienne took a step towards the tent. Bran shook his head and halted her progress. “Just wait. You’ll come storming out shortly, pretending you didn’t understand his words.”

“His words?”

“Its yours. It will always be yours.” Bran raised a brow. “He isn’t exactly subtle. You chose not to see it.”

“See what?” Before Bran could respond to her question, Brienne watched herself stomp out of the tent and grab Pod to move towards Riverrun. She remembered everything that followed and put out her arm. “Alright then. Where to next?”

Bran shook his head and looked back at the tent. Following his gaze, Brienne turned to see Jaime emerge from the tent. His eyes tracked her the entire way to the castle.

_“When are ya gunna admit it? It’s fuckin’ painful to watch and hear ya ramble about ‘er all the time.”_

Jaime scoffed and shook his head. _“I do not talk about her all the time!”_

Bronn snorted. _“The first thing ya did when we got here, was track down Addam and ask if he or his men seen ‘er passin’ through the Riverlands over the past year.”_

Jaime shrugged as though it was the most idiotic thing he had ever heard. _“His contingent has been stationed in the Riverlands aiding the dolt Freys. I was just curious if he had seen her.”_

Bronn raised a knowing brow and grabbed at his belt. Humming he met Jaime’s eyes. _“Alright. Whatever ya say.”_

With a huff of irritation, Jaime looked around the camp before speaking to Bronn. _“Tell the officers, there will be no bloodshed here. Lady Brienne will try to convince the Blackfish to leave peacefully with his men. She will escort them north.”_

_“Ha! Ya sister ain’t gunna like that! Neither are them Frey shits.”_

Jaime clenched his jaw and spat at Bronn. _“I don’t give a shit what Cersei or the Freys think. All that matters is that they get their fucking castle back. If Lady Brienne can’t convince the Blackfish, we will take it by other means. I will not have that castle attacked with… people inside.”_

Bran snorted at the same time Bronn did. Turning to him in shock, Brienne raised a brow. “That is funny to you of all people? Not wanting to see innocents harmed?”

“How about threatening innocents? Your… Ser Jaime… threatened to catapult my uncle’s newborn babe over the wall if you couldn’t convince the Blackfish to surrender.”

Brienne grimaced at the information. “Oh. I… I thought him better than that.”

“It was an idle threat to get my uncle to make the Tully force stand down. He refused to take the castle with bloodshed.”

A smile tugged at Brienne’s lips. “He’s a good man.”

“Yes, well when the woman he loves is inside the castle, I would say he has a vested interest. It also helps that you showed him the way. Reminded him of what he always wanted to be rather than what he had to be.”

Before Brienne could protest, Bran’s arm was back on her. They seemed to be moving faster than before. Brienne’s head was throbbing and when they stopped, she was back in Winterfell. She looked around and noted that she and Bran were alone in a room not far from the great hall.

Yet again, a jolt hit her as memories flooded back. The pain was its most intense yet and she had to squat to the floor and brace herself. The Battle of the Bastards. Jon’s word of the dead. The Dragonpit. “Fuck Loyalty”. The south arriving. The attacks near the Dreadfort. The Long Night.

Brienne remembered everything that transpired leading up to the feast. As she stood upright, her body swayed and her head throbbed.

“We need to hurry. Your body can’t handle much more.” Bran’s voice held its cool tone, but he was appraising her. Looking through her again. His next words made no sense to Brienne. “That was almost too much for _their_ world.”

_Pod. I lost Pod here. I killed the Night King, but I failed to save Pod._

Then it hit her. _Jaime. He kissed me. He said he loved me._

Bran was again watching her remember everything. Then the door to the room swung open to reveal Jaime and Cersei. The conversation played out before them and Brienne gasped.

_Cersei ordered Jaime to kill Daenerys. He saved her though. I saw it._

Then Jaime left the room in anger. Brienne’s blood ran cold as she heard Cersei give the Mountain the orders to kill Daenerys… and her.

“Why? Why does she want me dead?” Brienne looked to Bran in confusion. The moment she asked the question, her face fell. “Oh.”

Every memory she was shown came rushing forward like a wave crashing into the shore. Cersei hates me because Jaime loves me. Bran didn’t need to show her what came next. She remembered the night of the feast. She remembered the knighting. The dancing. The coupling.

_It was Jaime all along. He was the one to believe in me. To respect me. To fight for me. To care for me. To love me as I am._

Brienne remembered Cersei walking in on them and Jaime shoving her back out. She remembered the conversation that followed, and the way Jaime held her. She remembered their coupling again. And again. She remembered the knock on the door from the attendant.

But then Brienne remembered the conversation with Cersei. As if reading her mind, Bran took her hand in his. When she looked up at him, it was nighttime, and they were standing on the battlements. “I can’t show you the conversation where Jaime asked Cersei to marry him. I can’t show you the conversation where Cersei told him to marry someone from the Stormlands for an alliance. I can’t show you these things because they never happened.”

Brienne’s face fell at the words. _I believed her._ It was in that moment when her eyes saw her body on the ground; lifeless and bleeding.

Bran’s voice was behind her now. “You never looked because you never believed. You never believed anyone could love you, so you didn’t see it. His heart only beats for you. The look you see in his eyes is for you alone.”

_Gods. I am a proper dolt._

Brienne turned to look at Bran. His face was blank as he spoke. “Ser Brienne. It’s time to wake up now.” Then Brienne felt Bran’s hands shove her chest. She felt herself falling backwards rapidly.

As she fell, Brienne closed her ears out of fear. All she saw were green eyes staring back in the darkness. His name barely a whisper on her lips. “Jaime.”

**Sansa**

“Lady Sansa. Your brother is awake. He’s asking for you.”

When word came of Bran, Sansa was sitting at Brienne’s bedside. She had been making a prayer wheel as her mother and septa taught her. It had been two days since Brienne fell. Her condition seemed to be worsening. Her breathing difficulties and convulsions increased in frequency; each bout worse than the last.

Technically Sansa had no place making Brienne a prayer wheel. A mother was meant to make one to ward off the Stranger and see her child healed from illness or injury. Sansa heard that her mother had made one for Jon when he was ill as a boy, but the only other time she saw one made was a baker in the kitchens whose son had fallen ill.

Brienne wasn’t Sansa’s child, but Brienne was a friend. A sister of sorts. Sansa wondered if the gods would consider that when she hung the wheel over her sworn sword’s bed.

Sansa smiled at the guard and nodded in understanding. “I’ll be right there. Thank you.”

Looking across the bed, Sansa appraised Jaime. His head was on the bed facing Brienne’s face. He clutched her hand in his as though it was a lifeline. She had never seen anyone look so broken before.

It had taken a small army to get Jaime to eat or drink water. He refused sleep and only drifted slightly from time to time. He was afraid that Brienne would need aid with breathing or convulsions.

Sansa looked at the prayer wheel in her hands and deemed it sufficient. Standing from her seat, she placed it over Brienne’s bed. Her hand moved down from the prayer wheel to Brienne’s head. Leaning down she whispered to Brienne.

“I’ll be back, Brienne. Do wake up soon. This man beside you is starting to smell and he needs a proper shave.” Her voice took on a teasing lilt as she awaited the retort from Jaime. Like Tyrion, Jaime was witty and loathe as Sansa was to admit it, she had come to like the Lannister twin.

Sansa chuckled at her own words, but Jaime didn’t move. Leaning over, she looked at his face. Two days’ worth of stubble lined his jaw and his short golden hair was again sticking out all over the place. Sansa’s face fell when she realized that he had cried himself to sleep.

_Survive this Brienne or I fear we will be hosting a funeral for two._

Sansa made her way to the door and took pause. She could have sworn she heard Brienne say something. Looking back, there had been no change in Brienne, and Sansa shook her head slightly.

_Gods. Mayhap I need some rest too._


	15. For Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran is awake and truths are revealed.

**Jaime**

Jaime didn’t know how long he had been asleep for, but he was awoken by a loud voice. Sitting upright from Brienne’s bedside, he rubbed his tear-swollen eyes and looked towards the source of the noise.

The Stark sisters. Sansa and Arya stood in the doorway of the maester’s chambers glaring at him. “Ser Jaime. You’re to come with us now.”

_What’s happened now? What crawled up their asses?_

“I’m not leaving Brienne.”

Sansa’s voice responded immediately. Her tone was cold and brokered no argument. “It wasn’t a question. Ser Brienne will be taken care of.”

At her words, Grey Worm and Jhaqo entered the room with a few other men. Sansa’s eyes lacked the warmth that had been present of late and Jaime understood the underlying implication in her words. _I’m not welcome here_.

Standing slowly, Jaime looked at Brienne. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Whispering for her ears only, Jaime’s words were both a statement and a prayer. “I won’t leave you without a fight.”

_I’ll go with them for now, but if they try to make me leave Winterfell, I will die fighting to stay at Brienne’s side._

Moving towards the door, Jaime followed the Stark sisters. He assumed that the soldiers would follow, but they did not move from the room. Sansa looked back at them before closing the door. “Remember the instructions please. Sam will be in soon to give instruction should Ser Brienne need aid.”

_What is going on?_

The Stark sisters walked in silence through the halls of the castle and guided him outside. The daylight was blinding as Jaime had not see the sun in days. Squinting until his eyes adjusted, Jaime continued to follow them through the courtyard. The weather was warming slightly, and the small coating of snow was beginning to melt.

They moved through the grounds and came to stand before the Broken Tower.

_Fuck. They know. They’re going to kill me._

Jaime hesitated as the Stark sisters neared the entrance to the tower. He felt a lump in his throat at the realization that he didn’t get to say goodbye to Brienne. When they didn’t hear his footsteps at their heels, they turned to appraise him.

He could feel the color leave his face as he looked up at the tower. “ _This is your place. This is your darkness.”_

Jaime swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath. Willing his feet to move, Jaime began to walk forward. He wondered at how they would kill him. A bitter laugh bubbled in his chest.

_Will they push me from the tower? Will they slit my throat? Will they torture me first? I suppose I deserve whatever method they choose._

Following them, Jaime felt his heartrate quicken as they moved up the winding stairs. When they came to the top, Jaime’s eyes scanned the room. Cersei stood on one side of the small room; her wrists were chained, and her eyes were wild with rage. Facing her was Bran, Tyrion, and Jon Snow… or rather Aegon Targaryen.

The Stark sisters moved to stand beside Jon who was next to Bran. Tyrion stood on Bran’s other side with a solemn expression on his face. With a deep breath, Jaime moved to stand near Cersei while keeping enough distance to let her know that they were not on the same side.

Jon spoke commandingly from Bran’s side. “Ser Jaime Lannister, you stand accused in the attempted murder of my brother, Lord Bran Stark. What say you?”

“I’m guilty.” Jaime’s tone was heavy with regret and he looked to his feet.

Cersei scoffed at his side. He could feel her judgmental eyes on him. “Pathetic. You’ve led us right into the enemy’s hands you fool. You truly are the stupidest Lannister.”

Jon spoke again, giving no acknowledgement to Cersei’s words. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?” Jaime looked up to meet his eyes. A deep sadness hung in them.

_If Brienne wakes, what will they tell her when I’m dead? What will she think of me? Has she already met the Stranger? Would she welcome me or walk away disgusted?_

Shaking his head in denial, shame washed over Jaime as he briefly glanced to Bran. “I meant what I said. I’m sorry. Not that it matters.”

“It matters that you pushed me then, as it matters that you pushed me during the Long Night.” Bran’s words were devoid of emotion as he looked to Jaime.

Cersei guffawed at Jaime’s side. “Honestly, Jaime. You’re excellent at pushing the boy but shit at killing him.”

Jaime felt rage boil in his gut. He wished to see them kill Cersei before killing him.

_Hateful, vile woman._

Speaking through gritted teeth, Jaime spat at Cersei. “I wasn’t trying to kill him in the battle!”

“You wanted to save me and humanity just as you wanted to save your family that day in this tower.” Bran’s words caught Jaime by surprise. The young man continued staring at Jaime; Bran's eyes seeming to pierce Jaime’s soul.

“I did not want to become a cripple, but I had to become the three-eyed raven. I had to, so that I could do my part in the fight against the dead. I had to lose my legs so that I could fly. You had to lose a hand to find your heart. You had to ignite a war to save humanity. Ser Brienne would not have left Tarth otherwise. _She_ is your other half. Some might say your better half.” Bran smirked at the last comment and then Jon spoke.

“You killed your king to save King’s Landing from wildfire.” At Jon’s words, Jaime’s eyes left Bran and snapped to the recently revealed Targaryen.

“You defied _your_ queen to save a _better_ queen during the Long Night.” Sansa spoke at Jon’s side and grabbed his attention next. Then Arya spoke.

“You disobeyed your kin to save your future kin… on more than one occasion. A priceless sword. A bloodless siege.” The young wolf smirked in a gesture strikingly akin to Bran’s.

A heavy silence fell over the room and Jaime could feel his heart beating out of his chest. Cersei was seething beside him at the revelations. Then Bran spoke again. “Your crime against House Stark is pardoned, Ser Jaime.”

A weightless feeling took hold of Jaime’s body. To that point, he had not realized how much his most disgraceful deed weighed on him and tore at his soul. Jaime swallowed thickly and looked back to his feet.

“I don’t deserve that.”

“I’m not certain that’s for you to decide.” Bran’s tone was crisp as he spoke. Then the room darkened and the eyes once on Jaime, fell heavy on Cersei. Jon’s commanding voice spoke again.

“Lady Cersei Baratheon...”

Cersei’s voice interrupted Jon’s words. A vicious snarl at her lips. “I am queen!”

Ignoring her outburst, Jon continued. “You stand accused of countless crimes including, but not limited to; high treason, murder, attempted murder, violation of guest right, deception, and accomplice to unlawful torture.”

Cersei chuckled at the words, throwing back her head as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, is that all? I am the queen! By what authority do you dare judge me!?”

“I am Aegon Targaryen. Rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. It is you who has no authority here.” Jaime flinched at Jon’s tone. He had never heard the brooding northern boy so authoritative. With thinly veiled annoyance, Jon continued to speak.

“For your crimes against House Baratheon, you are guilty in the death of your husband and king, Robert Baratheon. You are guilty of committing high treason against the crown, by way of your infidelity with _multiple_ men and knowingly placing illegitimate heirs on the throne.”

_She slept with multiple people? I thought she was at least loyal to me…_

At Jon’s side, Sansa spoke next. “For your crimes against House Stark, you are guilty in deceit which lead to the wrongful execution of my father, Lord Eddard Stark. You allowed your son to torture me during my masked _imprisonment_ in King’s Landing. Your forced me to falsify documents to my kin.”

Jaime looked to Cersei as the crimes were listed out one by one. She hardly flinched. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying it. Then Tyrion's voice cut in.

“For your crimes against House Targaryen, you are guilty of ordering the Mountain to kill Queen Daenerys Targaryen during the battle against the dead. You violated a truce and guest right in the process.”

_It was her! She did order the queen to be killed! She had that monster kill Pod, Ser Jorah, and others in the process!_

Breaking Jaime from his thoughts, Arya spoke. “For your crimes against other Houses and the innocent, you are guilty of using wildfire to blow up the Great Sept of Baelor. You are guilty of having _most_ of Robert’s bastards killed; including babes. You are guilty in aiding the torture and mutilation of others at the hands of Qyburn. You are guilty of murdering your childhood friend, Melara, for daring to love your brother.”

_She killed Melara!? She killed babes!? Gods, how did I not walk away after the Sept? How did I not walk away sooner when I first saw signs of her madness?_

Jaime could feel hatred pool in his gut unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His flesh hand clenched and unclenched at his side. When Bran spoke next, Jaime felt as though his ability to breathe became as compromised as Brienne’s.

“For your crimes against House Tarth, you are guilty of ordering an attack on Tarth by Euron Greyjoy’s fleet and the Golden Company. You are guilty of ordering Lord Tarth’s head to be removed from his body out of jealousy for your brother’s love for Ser Brienne of Tarth.”

“What!?” Jaime screamed the question to Cersei.

Cersei again guffawed at the accusation. “Please! Like I could ever be jealous of ‘Brienne the Beauty’! The ‘Kingslayer’s Whore’! I know what they call her in the Stormlands and Riverlands. That fucking cow in silks could never make me jealous.”

Jaime felt frozen. His heart was pounding, and his breathing labored. Bran smiled and continued speaking. “And for your crimes against House Lannister…”

“I have committed no crimes against my house! This is absurd.” Ignoring her, Bran continued. 

“Ser Brienne was always meant to be Ser Brienne Lannister of Tarth; a _younger_ , _more_ _beautiful_ Lady of the Rock than you could ever be. You are guilty in the attempted murder of Ser Brienne. You ordered the Mountain to cut her down during the battle. _You_ pushed her from the battlements after deceiving her.”

Cersei paled before them and gaped slightly. At her side, Jaime felt the tears flood his eyes.

_Brienne._

Jaime stalked towards Cersei. “You hateful fucking bitch! You tried to kill Brienne!?”

Turning to face him, Cersei’s face went from shock to rage. “That fucking cow will never marry you! You are mine! My twin. My other half. You cannot live without me! You will do as I say and that whore…”

Before she could finish the words, Jaime’s flesh hand was around her neck and backing her up quickly towards the wall; only there was no wall. There was a window. Squeezing harder as he pressed in against her, Jaime screamed at her.

“You tried to kill the only woman I truly loved! The only goodness in my life! You are not my other half! I am not yours and we will not die together. Brienne is my other half! She is far more beautiful than you could ever be, you spiteful cunt!”

As Jaime’s hand tightened around Cersei’s neck, her eyes went wide in shock and tears streamed down her face. She clawed at Jaime’s hand and tried to hit him away. In a last-ditch effort, Cersei tried to push her body forward as hard as she could.

Rage consumed Jaime as his mind flooded with images of Brienne’s broken body. Images of her convulsions. Images of her lips turning blue; unable to take in air. Consumed with rage as he was, Jaime did not feel the tears pouring from his eyes as Cersei violently tried to kick his legs and claw at his face.

Bran’s voice filled the room at Jaime’s back.

“Cersei told Brienne that your love was false. Brienne’s last thought when Cersei pushed her to awaiting death, was that she was unloved.”

Jaime choked out a strangled sob at the words and shoved Cersei away from him with his left hand. The movement was eerily similar to what Jaime had done to Bran. He dropped to his knees and sobbed into his hands; one flesh and one gold.

The momentum propelled Cersei’s body backwards and over the window’s ledge. With no air in her lungs to elicit a scream, Cersei fell to her death in strangled silence. As her body fell out of view, Bran’s voice again filled the room.

“The things you do for true love.”


	16. I Dreamed of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion is rendered speechless and Brienne wakes up.

**Tyrion**

“Jaime. We need to talk.”

Tyrion’s warm hand moved to Jaime’s shoulder. Seeing his big brother waste away before his eyes these past two days had been torturous. He had never seen Jaime so vulnerable and emotional. 

“Cersei’s missive was sent to Euron the morning of her arrest. That was two days ago, and the raven arrived. She contracted the Golden Company without you knowing and they have 20,000 men in King’s Landing. It will take them two days to prepare the ships and sail to Tarth.”

Tyrion could feel Jaime’s shoulder shake under his palm. He glanced back at the Starks who looked on in concern. When Bran had called them to his chambers that morning, Tyrion had an ominous feeling and he realized, much to his regret, how painfully accurate that premonition was.

Since Daenerys’ fall, Tyrion and Sansa had been working together to devise a way to remove Cersei from the throne. They felt the task impossible without Jaime’s support, but no matter how much he seemed to love Brienne, and no matter how much he seemed to despise what Cersei had become, Jaime was loyal.

It wasn’t until Brienne’s fall that the opportunity to gain Jaime’s support became a reality. Sansa had dissuaded Tyrion from raising the topic though. The hour before Bran awoke, Tyrion had found Sansa pacing in the hallway just outside the maester’s chambers.

It was a side of Sansa that Tyrion had never seen before. Despondent. Approaching her slowly, Tyrion saw the young woman who he had come to admire wiping at her swollen eyes hurriedly. The sound of Tyrion’s approaching footsteps echoed off the walls and alerted Sansa of his presence.

With tears heavy in her voice, Sansa cleared her throat and looked to him. “Gods. Tyrion, you startled me. What is it?”

“I was just looking for you and assumed that I might find you here, or rather, in there.” Tyrion cast a knowing glance at the door to the maester’s room. From what Tyrion heard, Brienne’s condition was worsening by the hour.

“I didn’t want… I don’t need to make things harder on your brother by breaking down too. He’s already a complete mess. What do you have need of me for?” She desperately tried to clear the tears from her eyes and voice. It saddened Tyrion that this young, strong, capable woman thought her emotions a weakness that needed hiding. It reminded him of Jaime.

Tywin always reprimanded Jaime’s show of emotions. Over the years, Jaime learned to hide being a mask of indifference and snark; a most unpleasant combination to be around at times. It wasn’t until Brienne fell that Jaime’s walls came down in most dramatic fashion.

“As horrific as the situation is, I do believe we finally have the opportunity to bring Jaime to our cause. We should speak to him about bending the knee to Jon.”

At Tyrion’s words, a storm of emotions swirled in Sansa’s eyes. Her body tensed and she appeared ready to scream, but she bit her tongue and took a steady breath.

“Brienne isn’t well, Tyrion. Maester Wolkan says her condition is worsening and…” Before Sansa could finish, she looked away abruptly; her face contorting in agony. Tears flooded her eyes as she sniffled and again tried to mask her emotions.

Tyrion immediately regretted his thoughtlessness on the matter. It wasn’t just Jaime suffering, it was Sansa. Brienne was much more to Sansa than Tyrion had realized.

When he first arrived at Winterfell and observed the way Sansa interacted with Brienne, he thought his former wife viewed Brienne as little more than another soldier. Another shield to guard her castle walls. Someone to be kept at arm’s length as she did everyone else. It was obvious now that her care for Brienne ran much deeper.

Collecting herself, Sansa turned back to Tyrion and spoke ardently. Her voice betrayed the aguish she felt as she forced out the words.

“Just an hour ago I watched your brother hold down the woman he loves, my friend, as she convulsed for minutes on end. The longest yet. His body was wracked with sobs as he did so and he struggled to hold Brienne down. It is something he must do _every time_ , because if her broken ribs are disturbed, it cuts off her ability to breathe. I thought the veins in her neck might pop from the strain in her body, and she nearly bit through a fucking spoon. Even in a state of unconsciousness, the pain on her face was unbearable.”

Taking a deep breath, Sansa looked away again to steady herself. “You will not burden him with this now. He needs to be with Brienne without any other concerns. If she dies… if she dies and he isn’t there physically or emotionally, it may break him.”

Tyrion knew Sansa spoke the truth. Addam and Bronn had been helping Jaime to care for Brienne. When they took leave to rest or eat, Tyrion observed how weary and downtrodden the pair were from whatever they had witnessed in that room. Even Bronn was solemn; all irreverence gone.

Try as he might, Tyrion couldn’t get Jaime to eat, drink, or sleep. His brother spent every moment in a chair, clutching Brienne’s hand and staring at her. Tyrion had visited a few times but knew better than to speak. Instead, he would sit in companionable silence and place a warm hand on Jaime’s shoulder.

When Bran awoke, everything changed. Bran started by telling his siblings of what Jaime had done to him so many years ago. Initially, Tyrion panicked. The Starks always suspected, but never had confirmation. Tyrion thought they would kill his brother and in fact, Arya was already sharpening her dagger.

Then Bran explained to him why it had to be. Why he needed Jaime to push him from the tower as much as he needed Jaime to push him from the path of the Night King’s blade. Bran reminded them of the consequences for what would have befallen Jaime, the children, and Cersei had Bran told someone. “What would you have done Arya, if little Sam saw something that would have seen Sansa or Jon executed?”

Begrudgingly, the Stark sisters and Jon accepted it. Then Bran told them the truth of Jaime. Of how he sacrificed his reputation to save a city. Of how he sacrificed his sword hand for Brienne. Of how he betrayed his kin to arm her and armor her because he swore an oath to their mother. Of how he saved Daenerys.

Jaime felt regret from that day in the tower. He and Bran had spoken of it multiple times before engaging the dead. Cersei by comparison felt no remorse. Bran shared everything she had done. There were too many crimes to name, so they picked the greatest.

Without explanation, Bran insisted that they hold the mock trial in the Broken Tower. His reasoning was cryptic, but he smiled and spoke absently. “Valonqar.”

Now as he stood in the broken tower with his hand clutching Jaime’s shoulder, Tyrion marveled at what had transpired. He looked back to the Starks in a silent plea for aid.

Jon walked over and squatted by Jaime. “I’m going to Tarth on the back of Rhaegal. Hopefully Drogon will follow. We should just get there in time if I leave now. I swear to you that I will torch Euron’s fleet and the Golden Company. I will ensure Lord Tarth’s safety.”

Jaime looked to Jon through swollen eyes and mumbled a thanks. It was Sansa who came over next. “Come on, Ser Jaime. Lets get back to Brienne.” Placing a steadying hand on his arm, Sansa guided him from the room and downstairs. Jon lifted Bran as Arya and Tyrion followed; Bran’s wheelchair carried between them.

When Tyrion stepped out in the courtyard, his heart sped at the thought of seeing Cersei’s mangled body. He hated this sister. Cersei’s entire world seemed to center around torturing him. Even still, despite all the new, creative ways he manufactured in his mind to see Cersei killed off, he could never do it.

The fact that Jaime had been the one tore at his heart. Looking ahead, Tyrion observed how Sansa shielded him from the body and distracted him as they walked towards the castle. It was almost comical to Tyrion how a woman half his big brother’s age was more the parent in that moment. Her daughter’s mother if ever there was one.

 _Gods, don’t let this haunt Jaime_.

Tyrion understood some valyrian, although nowhere near as much as Daenerys had.

 _“Valonqar”, Bran had said. “Little brother”. Did he know this would come to pass?_

Arya put Bran’s wheelchair on the ground and Jon lowered his cousin back into the seat. Looking to Bran, Tyrion saw a knowing smile when their eyes met.

“He’ll be alright. He is a man driven by love and his love is awake now.” At Bran’s words, Tyrion’s eyes widened. A wave of relief rushed through his body at the knowledge that Brienne would be alright.

_Thank the Gods. If Brienne survives this, my brother will survive this._

Slowly, Tyrion’s head turned to Cersei’s broken body at the base of the tower. A shiver ran through him at the sight. It was horrific.

Jon called over a couple of the guards and gave instruction. “Cover the former queen’s body and place it in the crypt. She um… tripped… as it were.” A loud snort from Arya caught the guards’ attention and Jon gave her a warning glare. Jon took a breath and continued. “We’ll ask Ser Jaime later what he would have us do with the body. Do not inform his men. This should come from him.”

Jon sighed heavily and faced them. “I need to move out quickly if I’m to make it to Tarth in time. I just hope Drogon will follow.”

“He will. His new rider will see to it.” Everyone’s brows furrowed at Bran’s words. Tyrion turned to Bran with an inquisitive look on his face. “What are you to tell us next? That there’s yet another secret Targaryen?” He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes towards Jon.

“Yes, actually. Tyrion, go see to it that Drogon aids the destruction of Euron’s please. Since Drogon’s first rider is dead, he will accept another just as Balerion the Dread did.” 

Tyrion scoffed and looked to Bran as though the entire conversation a waste of time. “I am a Lannister. Drogon will not accept someone without dragon’s blood.”

“Yes, you are a Lannister. Joanna’s son. Your father had the right of it. ‘You’re no son of mine.’ He didn’t just hate you for your stature and Joanna’s death. He always had a suspicion that Aerys forced himself on your mother. Aerys did. Haven’t you ever wondered at it? How easily you learned valyrian as a boy? How interested you were in dragons? How you were among the only human the dragons allowed near them in Essos?”

Tyrion’s jaw dropped and for the first time in his life, he was speechless.

Bran smiled and nodded towards the gate. “Go on. Lord Tarth would prefer his head on his shoulders.”

**Jaime**

As Jaime walked into the maester’s room, Sansa dismissed Grey Worm, Jhaqo, and the other men. Distantly, Jaime could hear Sansa ask if there had been any change to which Grey Worm indicated there was not. Sam was busy checking Brienne’s ribs and head, humming as he went.

Jaime had been heartbroken at Bran’s words. _She fell believing Cersei’s words. Believing herself unloved._

Grabbing Brienne’s hand, Jaime squeezed it as he leaned to her head. “I’m back, Brienne. I love you.”

Then Jaime felt her hand tighten. His eyes snapped down to their joined hands in shock. “Brienne! Can you hear me?”

Her hand remained tight around his. Jaime moved his right arm above her head on the pillow as he continued to stare hopefully at their hands. The whites of her knuckles caused a smile to spread across his face, as he looked back to her and leaned close. “Brienne. I’m here, love.”

Sam sighed. “I’m sorry Ser Jaime, but she can’t…”

“Jaime.” His name on Brienne’s lips was faint, but the sweetest sound Jaime had ever heard. He wasn’t the only one who heard it. Sansa ran to Sam’s side and practically pushed the man out of the way. “Brienne!”

Leaning down, Jaime rested his head against Brienne’s and whispered into her ear. “I’m right here, Brienne. I’m never leaving you again.”

From the other side of the bed, Jaime heard Sansa gasp. He pulled back his head and looked to the young woman. Following her eyeline, he looked down at Brienne who was staring at him. Her sapphire pools were the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen. 

Brienne spoke quietly, but resolutely. “I dreamed of you.”

A sob-filled chuckle escaped Jaime’s lips as he cupped her cheek and nodded. The world was back under his feet again and he could breathe for what felt like the first time in days. Leaning down, Jaime kissed her lips and cried tears of joy.

Jaime could hear Sam speaking to Sansa in hushed tones. “I don’t understand it. She almost died just earlier. How is she awake?”

When Sansa responded, Jaime could hear the smile in her words. “Love is more powerful than medicine, Sam. Can you please inform Maester Wolkan that Ser Brienne is awake?”

The sound of Sam’s retreating footsteps filled the room and Jaime felt a small hand on his arm. Turning towards Sansa, Jaime saw the young woman smiling down at Brienne. “Thank the Gods you’re alive. I’ll be back soon with some soup from the kitchen. Don’t let this one pester you too much.”

Sansa’s eyes flitted to Jaime and she tilted her head like a mother scolding a child. “I’ll bring you soup too. No sense in you doing something stupid like continuing to starve to death.”

As she left the room, Jaime turned back to Brienne; relief lining his features. Brienne was looking at him curiously and her words came out weak. “Have you not been eating?” Before he could respond, her hand came up to his cheek and wiped away a tear.

Jaime was amazed that he even had tears left to shed after spending two days crying at her bedside. He mused that he had never cried so much in his life.

Brienne’s hand began to fall from his face, but Jamie caught it; bringing her palm to his lips. “I thought you were dying. Of all the things I’ve survived, I could never survive that.” Keeping her hand in his, Jaime pulled their hands over his heart and held her close.

“Cersei lied to you. Bran said…” Jaime had to pause to steady himself. He swallowed thickly and tried to keep the tears at bay. “… he said you fell to your death feeling unloved. I don’t know what she told you, Brienne, but I swear that I…”

Before he could finish, Brienne was pulling him down to her. Careful not to put pressure near her injured ribs, Jaime’s head came to rest beside hers. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders as her other hand remained firmly clutched in his and against his chest.

Jaime had never felt more at peace. Her voice vibrated against his head as she spoke. “I couldn’t remember anything, but Bran was there. He showed me everything. I saw you. You were there. Always.”

The fatigue was heavy in her voice as she spoke. As much as Jaime wanted nothing more than to talk to her and kiss her, he was acutely aware of how frail she was. She had nearly died in the last wave of convulsions.

“Rest, Brienne. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

Jaime didn’t know how much time passed, but the door soon opened to reveal the three Stark siblings. Arya wheeled in Bran as Sansa carried bowls of soup. Maester Wolkan came in behind them; his brows raised in surprise.

“Gods, be good. She truly is awake.”

Jaime sat up but refused to release Brienne’s hand. Wolkan hummed as he moved quickly and inspected her head, eyes, and ribs.

“And how are you feeling, my lady?”

“Ser. She is a knight, Maester Wolkan.” Sansa’s voice was stern, but there was a touch of amusement there. Wolkan took a blunt knife from the shelf and pushed against the bottom of Brienne’s feet with the tip.

“Do you feel anything at your feet, _Ser_ Brienne?” The maester smiled at Sansa as he questioned Brienne.

With a huff of annoyance, Brienne responded. “Yes, so if you could not stab me, please.”

Jaime felt his lips pull into a wide smile. He had been so relieved at her waking that he hardly took the time to ask if she could feel or move her lower body.

The maester nodded and hummed. “Good, good. I don’t want you trying to move yet. Your ribs are in bad shape. I need you taking long, deep breaths throughout the day to help prevent infection from setting in. Can you do that?”

Brienne nodded in understanding and listened as the maester gave additional care instructions. Jaime tried to keep track of everything Wolkan said. He would do everything necessary to ensure Brienne healed properly.

While the maester spoke with Brienne, Sansa practically force-fed Jaime. She spoke quietly at his side. “She needs you to be strong now. Do not waste away.” As annoying as it was, Sansa had the right of it. Despite his exaggerated eye roll, Jaime did as she bid him. A hum of satisfaction escaped her lips as she appraised her sworn sword.

Maester Wolkan left after finishing his exam. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, Jaime fed Brienne her soup and watched as some color returned to her cheeks. She was still very weak and in pain from her injuries. The maester had given her a dose of poppy to aid her comfort. It would likely be some weeks before she was feeling herself and moving around.

Aside from the obvious injuries to her ribs and head, Brienne had horrible bruising all over her back from the fall. Had she fallen flat on her back, she likely would have broken her spine. The Starks had spoken amongst themselves as Brienne ate and Jaime was happy for it. He couldn’t stop leaning in to kiss her soft, thick lips every so many spoonful’s and it made her blush every time.

It was the fifth time that Jaime leaned in to kiss her that Arya couldn’t take it anymore. “Ugh, gods. Brienne you better heal quickly so you can beat him away.”

Glaring back at the young Stark, Jaime moved back to his seat once Brienne finished her food. Brienne’s brows knitted in confusion as she looked at Bran.

“Was it all a dream or did you really show me all those things?”

Bran smiled and nodded. “It was real. All of it.”

At the exchange, Sansa’s brows furrowed slightly. “What’s gone on now?”

Bran turned to his sister and held his smile. “I didn’t wake up after the Long Night because I had to stay in-between. I had to wait for Brienne. She forgot everything in her memory after the moment she left Tarth to serve Lord Renly. She would have woken up knowing none of us and likely thought herself injured in some battle serving Renly.”

Jaime stiffened at the words. A slight panic washed over him at the knowledge that Brienne would have woken without knowing everything they had been through together. Thinking Renly fucking Baratheon was still alive.

As if sensing his thoughts, Bran smirked and looked to Jaime. “I contemplated showing her everything except your journey together. It would have been fun watching you try to make her remember. Watching you figure out how to make her fall in love with you again. It isn’t as though you have a spare hand to spare.”

Under other circumstances, Jaime would have told the young Stark off. Knowing what he did for Brienne and by consequence, him, Jaime could only smirk back and take the abuse. “I would have won her over eventually. I’m very charming.”

Brienne snorted, but immediately winced in pain. A slight panic coursed through Jaime as he reached for her, but she batted him away. “I _hated_ you. I truly thought you my punishment for much of our journey through the Riverlands.”

Clutching his heart and feigning insult, Jaime scoffed. “How can you say that? We had so much fun together. It was love at first.”

“Love at first sight? So you attempted to win me over by asking Lady Catelyn if I was a woman and then asking where she found such a beast?”

“I was wooing you!”

The Starks groaned at his absurdity as Brienne plowed on. “The next thing you said to me was that I was uglier in daylight.”

_Gods. She’s feeling better now. Reprimanding me again._

“That is because you are breathtaking in the moonlight. Unparalleled. How could you beat that?”

Arya snorted from the other side of the bed. “He truly is an idiot.”

“Told you.” Sansa intoned.

A momentary silence fell over the room before Jaime realized someone was missing. “Where is Tyrion?”

The Starks looked between each other before Bran spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “On his way to rescue Lord Tarth with his nephew.”


	17. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Tyrion return. Jaime and Brienne realize they have much to discuss.

**Brienne**

Brienne awoke to an intense pressure on her right side. Looking down, she smiled at the sight before her. Jaime had curled up against her on the edge of the bed at some point during the night. His right arm was slung heavily over her hip as his head rested against her shoulder.

While her left side throbbed in pain on account of the broken ribs, the pressure on her right side was a welcome feeling. The nightmare that awoke her was one she feared would plague her for some time.

She was atop the battlements just as she had been _that_ night. In her dream, it was Jaime that would shove her. His voice but a whisper. “I could never love you.”

Brienne knew it couldn’t be further from the truth, but that night haunted her. She curled her right arm around Jaime and ran her long fingers through his hair. The feel of him against her sent a warmth through her body that was indescribable.

With little awareness for the hour, Brienne pondered if it was too early to call for tea. Her throat was parched, and she felt the cool draft of the castle kiss at her skin. Looking to her left side, Brienne could see the outline of heavy bandages under her tunic. She wondered how long it would take to recover and if her skill with a sword would be the same.

As if sensing her wakefulness, Jaime began to stir from atop her. He yawned and nuzzled against her shoulder as his maimed wrist curled slightly over her hip. It only then occurred to Brienne that he wasn’t wearing the gold prosthetic.

“Brienne.” Jaime’s voice was heavy with sleep and Brienne half wondered if he was truly awake or talking as he slumbered. When she felt his lips at her neck, Brienne had her answer.

“Good morning. I think.” Brienne’s words were as much of a statement as they were a question. Jaime leaned up on his left elbow and blinked back the sleep that hung heavy in his eyes.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. I just wanted to be closer for a bit.”

It hadn’t occurred to Brienne that she was still running her right hand through Jaime’s hair until he rested his forehead against hers and purred like a cat being rubbed. Jaime moved his right arm to the side of her head as he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was dizzying, and Brienne relished the feel of Jaime’s body pressed against her. Memories of the evening before her fall flooded back. Jaime seemed to be having the same thoughts as his cock hardened against her hip.

Pulling back from the kiss, Jaime spoke breathlessly; his eyes heavy with lust. “Sorry. It’s kind of your fault though.”

“My fault?”

Jaime smiled as he looked down at her. “Yes, you look extra wenchish right now.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and sighed. “That’s not even a thing. Do you think it’s the morning?”

Looking around the room as though the answer was hidden somewhere within, Jaime sat up and shrugged. “I can find out. Do you need anything?”

“I’m very thirsty.” Brienne could hear the grittiness to her voice as she spoke. She had been trying to drink enough liquids since waking, but it felt she could never get hydrated enough.

Jaime stood from the bed and stretched. “I’ll get you something to drink. Don’t go anywhere.” His voice was teasing and if Brienne wasn’t in so much pain, she would swat at him. Despite her unamused expression, Jaime smiled and leaned down for another kiss. His fingers brushed lightly against her cheek, sending a tingle through her body.

It was still difficult for Brienne to imagine that Jaime Lannister was her betrothed and it was _his_ request. Brienne always assumed that if anyone married her, it would be an arranged match that her betrothed had little desire for.

But Jaime loved her. He had for a longtime and she understood that now thanks to Bran. She watched him retreat from the room and into the dimly lit hallway.

As she lay in bed considering the past three days since she awoke, a knock came at the door. It struck Brienne as odd given Jaime wouldn’t have bothered to knock on entry. Looking to the door, she watched as it opened to reveal Jon and Tyrion. They were smiling widely and stepped aside as another figure came into view.

Brienne gasped as her father’s large frame filled the doorway. His mouth dropped at the sight of her and he moved quickly to the bed; tears filling his eyes. “Brienne. Gods, my girl.” He looked afraid to touch her as he loomed over the bed. Taking appraisal of her injuries, Selwyn’s lips turned down as though it pained him as much as Brienne.

“We’ll leave you two alone to catch up. We intercepted Jaime and the staff will bring by some tea for you.” Tyrion’s words were light as he smiled at them.

“Thank you both for saving my father and Tarth.” Brienne felt an overwhelming gratitude for their effort and nodded to the recently revealed Targaryens.

Tyrion huffed a laugh as he moved to shut the door. “Anything for the Night Kingslayer.”

As the door shut, Brienne looked up at her father. He was as she remembered. A massive man whose size alone commanded the attention of everyone around him. He was not an emotional man, but he was fiercely loyal and caring for anyone he considered an ally.

Brienne had left Tarth a girl with dreams of knighthood. A title she never thought possible to attain. Her only hope had been to live as true knight would and die fighting valiantly in a manner that would make her island proud.

Now she was a knight. She had fought in a battle and single combat. Westeros was much changed in the years she had been away from home and despite what Bran had shown her, Brienne wondered if Selwyn would welcome her back to Tarth.

Selwyn sat down in the empty chair and grabbed her arm. His head fell slightly as he sighed deeply. “I’ve missed you terribly and feared for your safety every day that you were gone.”

Brienne swallowed thickly and felt tears at the back of her eyes. “I wrote you every moon, but I didn’t want to burden you with it. I know I disappointed you.”

“You never disappointed me Brienne. You just… you’re so damn stubborn! I was petrified and acted like an ass. It took everything in me not to turn my horse around and swim after that damn ship.”

A heavy silence hung between them before they both spoke at the same time with the same words.

“I’m sorry.”

Selwyn snorted and patted her arm. With a deep breath, a smile quirked at his lips. “I hear you’ve accomplished quite a lot since you’ve been on the mainland. You saved humanity, became a knight, and… you are now betrothed.”

A quizzical brow raised to Selwyn’s hairline. Brienne could feel a deep blush spreading across her face. Turning away, she stared at the door and willed someone to enter and save her from the awkward conversation to come.

“Tyrion told you then?”

Selwyn huffed a laugh and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “Yes, he tells me that you’re betrothed to his brother. The Kingslayer.”

Brienne’s body tensed at the moniker. “Don’t call him that.”

With a deep, rumbling laugh, Selwyn shook his head. “There you are. That’s the stubborn girl I know. Yes, yes. The Targaryens tell me that I’m not to call him that anymore.”

_The Targaryens._

It was still difficult to believe that both Jon and Tyrion were of Targaryen descent. Jaime had not handled the news well and Brienne could tell that he was eager to speak to his brother.

Cutting through Brienne’s thoughts, Selwyn’s deep voice filled the small room. “Is he good to you, child?”

The question seemed absurd and Brienne huffed a laugh. “That would be an understatement. He saved me from rape. He saved me from death. He armed me and armored me. He knighted me. He believed in me when others would not. Shall I keep going or is this list sufficient?”

Selwyn tensed at the list; his features settling into a grimace. “I daresay he has done more for you in life than I have. Fine. I’ll speak with the boy.”

“There is nothing to speak on, father. I’ve already agreed.” Brienne crossed her arms like a petulant child. She refused to look at him, but then a large hand cupped her cheek and forced her eyes to his.

“I couldn’t stop you from getting on a boat to fight in a war. Do you think I could stop you from loving someone?” Selwyn raised a challenging brow and Brienne felt her body relax. “I only mean to ask the man’s intentions. Are you to live at Casterly Rock? Will you have babes? Will you honor Tarth with an heir? Will you marry here, there, or at Tarth?”

_Oh. We have not even spoken of such things._

As if reading her thoughts, Selwyn chuckled. “So a pair of dolts then? Delightful. This will be great fun.”

With a heavy sigh, Selwyn sat back in his chair. “So… tell me of your adventures before I tell you of the winged beasts that flew over my island and torched a fleet led by the Stranger himself.”

**Jaime**

As soon as Jaime exited the maester’s room to fetch Brienne tea, it was obvious that the castle inhabitants had been awake for hours. The hallways were abuzz with activity and Jaime dodged out of the way as several attendants rushed towards the great hall carrying jugs of water and plates of food.

_What is going on?_

Jaime received his answer soon enough when the largest man he had ever seen came into view, led by one of the smallest men he knew; his brother. “Jaime! I’m pleased to say that our mission was a success. As you can see, your future goodfather’s head is still on his shoulders.”

_Oh Gods. He told him._

Swallowing thickly, Jaime walked forward tentatively and extended a shaky hand. “Lord Tarth. I’m…”

“Jaime Lannister. Yes, yes. You’re not exactly unknown across the realm.” Selwyn appraised him warily before continuing. “You’re shorter than I expected.”

“Your daughter knocked me down a peg or two.”

A wide smile spread across the older lord’s face and he let out a loud guffaw. An unexpected and jovial hit to Jaime’s shoulder nearly knocked him to the ground. “I like this one… so far. Where is my daughter?”

Jon and Tyrion offered to show Selwyn to the maester’s room. Before they could continue, Jaime caught Tyrion’s arm. “I was going to bring her some tea. I can bring Lord Tarth there.”

As if summoning Tywin himself, Tyrion placed a firm hand on Jaime’s arm and spoke in a tone that brokered no argument. “Go to the hall, brother. I’ll be there shortly. We’ll see to it that your lady knight receives her tea. Let them have some time together first.”

The staff in the hall were quickly arranging the head table, presumably for the return of their king. A low hum filled the hall as senior lords and commanders milled about. From the corner of his eye, Jaime saw Addam and Bronn speaking in hushed tones.

At his approach, Addam smiled widely. “How is the future lady of the Rock today?”

“Future lady knight of the Rock, Addam. She’s doing better.” Looking around the hall, Jaime’s eyes landed on Sansa who was giving instruction to three soldiers near the side entryway of the hall. Her eyes met Jaime’s and she put up a hand to cut off one of the men’s words. With a final command, the men moved out and she came over to them.

“Ser Jaime, we need to speak. Lets go to the study.” The young woman’s features betrayed the fatigue that likely consumed her, but her tone was confident. They stepped out into the hallway and Sansa slipped a hand into his elbow. She dug her nails in slightly to get his attention

Speaking through clenched teeth and smiling as they passed castle guests, Sansa spoke commandingly. “Your betrothed’s father is here now. You are to be on your best behavior which means no sleeping on top of her in the maester’s room.”

Jaime felt his brows furrow in confusion before it occurred to him. _Oh. Someone must have come in._

“Yes, we wouldn’t want anyone thinking I was taking advantage of a woman who nearly died just days prior and still is unable to move.”

Sansa huffed in annoyance and pulled him into the study. “One of the soldiers went to the master’s room to find bandages this morning and found you asleep atop my sworn sword. A knight. A woman of noble birth and _unwed_. Her father is here now, and I don’t need rumors circulating.”

With a conciliatory nod, Jaime stood and awaited her next words.

“Sit. We have much to discuss.” The young woman pointed at a seat before her desk. Walking around to the other side, Sansa sat down and pinched the bridge of her nose. She looked so much like her mother and Jaime had to shake his head to ensure he was seeing correctly.

A huff of laughter pushed past his lips as he sat down and looked around the room. It was dimly lit much like everything at Winterfell. A large bookcase adorned one wall and behind the desk was a small window that overlooked the courtyard.

“Is something amusing to you, Ser Jaime?” Sansa’s voice interrupted Jaime’s assessment of the study and he met her eyes.

“You look very much like your lady mother. I am half expecting you to pickup a rock and smash me across the face with it as she did while I was chained to a post.” Despite Jaime’s teasing lilt, Sansa grimaced at the words.

“My mother was fiercely protective of her children. Although… I’m certain you deserved it.” At the latter comment, a lighthearted jest filled Sansa’s voice.

“I’m certain that I did. So, what else do you wish to reprimand me about?”

A slight unease set in Sansa’s features. “Since you’ve informed your officers of Cersei’s untimely death, there have been whispers among those in your camp that you are to be king.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Jaime’s lips. “Mayhap they’ve found more of your wine stores.”

Rolling her eyes, Sansa tilted her head and appraised him. “With Cersei dead and there being no living heir, the crown would go to you as next of kin.”

_Oh._

“Well that is easy enough to correct. Anything else?” Jaime looked to his former goodsister expectantly. She looked far less impressed with his answer than he was.

“You’ll need to bend the knee to someone. The North, the Vale, and Daenerys’ forces are backing Jon’s claim. Your brother has agreed to be Jon’s Hand.”

“A most wise decision. Unless there are any more hidden Targaryens, I don’t imagine I have other options, now do I? I’ll inform my men that King… Jon? Aegon?... is to rule. The West will bend to him.”

Sansa nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Then of course there is the matter of your sister’s body. What would you have us do? We can offer an appropriate funeral befitting her station or we could offer a boat to bring her remains to Casterly Rock.”

It was a surprising offer from the young woman so tormented by Cersei. Truthfully, Jaime had hardly thought of what to do with Cersei’s body.

_Let the maggots have it._

“She doesn’t belong at the Rock. Not after what she did. Do you have any livestock that need feeding?”

Sansa scoffed and glared at him. “I know that you are angry right now and rightfully so. Trust me, I have little desire to afford her anything other than a mound of bricks to rest under. She was however queen, and I think that in time, you may come to regret a cruel discarding of her remains.”

Jaime sighed and rubbed at his forehead. He knew that Sansa had the right of it. It was most unfortunate timing that he had only just pushed Cersei to her death three days prior. In time, he might feel differently about her passing. Not the woman she had become of course, but the girl he grew up with.

“I suppose you’re correct. Thank you. I will speak with Tyrion. I imagine one of those little sendoffs like you gave Daenerys is more than sufficient.”

Sansa nodded and offered a small smile. “Alright then. I’ll have the men set something up for your men. At sundown you can have an appropriate farewell for her. Hopefully you can prepare some words in time.”

Jaime scoffed and crossed his arms. “How about ‘Dracarys’? Is that sufficient?” He could see the young woman’s mask cracking. Sansa bit her tongue to prevent laughter from spilling out.

“Ser Jaime.” As he looked to her with a raised brow, Sansa could no longer hold her mask of propriety. Closing her eyes and looking away as she snorted, she collected herself before looking back to him.

“I’m certain you can come up with something else between now and then.”

With a shrug, Jaime sighed. “Mayhap Tyrion can say something. Seems more appropriate considering I had a _hand_ in her down _fall_.”

“Gods. You’re incorrigible. I don’t know how Brienne puts up with you. Why don’t you go speak to your men? I would appreciate these rumors being dealt with before fighting breaks out among contingents.”

Standing from his chair and offering an exaggerated bow, Jaime turned to leave.

“And Ser Jaime…” Halting at the door, Jaime looked over his shoulder at the young woman.

“Your men may stay as long as necessary to escort their new lady home.”

Jaime offered his thanks, but in truth he didn’t know where home would be. The Rock had never truly felt like home, but with Tyrion joining Jon in King’s Landing, Jaime worried at who would look after the West. Brienne was her father’s only heir which meant that Tarth would be without a leader someday. Suddenly it seemed that he had much to discuss with his wench.


	18. Heirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion and Jaime speak after his return. Jaime gets some time with the Tarths.

**Tyrion**

The funeral for Cersei had been quick and small. Aside from Jaime, only Addam and the senior officers attended. Tyrion surmised it was more to support Jaime than to honor their fallen queen. Now as he sat in the great hall, Tyrion studied his brother and considered the question he had asked just moments ago.

“No, I am not changing my name. I am a Lannister. I am your brother, Jaime. None of that changes.” Tyrion had been surprised at Jaime’s downtrodden reaction to the revelation of his lineage. In truth, Tyrion himself hardly knew what to make of it.

Tyrion couldn’t decide if it was liberating or unwelcome. It shifted his view of everything more dramatically than he expected.

_My father did always hate me, but I was so similar to him. Then again, he and Joanna were cousins, so mayhap it’s just the nature of being half Lannister anyway._

His brother seemed to worry that Tyrion would take off with his new identity and forget Jaime. Part of Tyrion understood the fear. Jaime had just lost his only other sibling. His twin. Now, Tyrion was to play Hand to a man who he just discovered to be his nephew.

The returning look from Jaime did little set Tyrion’s mind at ease.

_He truly thinks I could abandon him. Has Cersei ruined him this much that he thinks I would turn on him too?_

Placing a warm hand on his brother’s forearm, Tyrion met Jaime’s eyes. “You are my brother first and possibly my best friend.”

Jaime scoffed. “Possibly? At least tell me that I’m not competing against Bronn for the honor.”

With a huff of laughter, Tyrion shook his head. “What I mean to say, is that you’re likely my only friend. I suppose that by default, that makes you my best friend. Jon seems a good man, but I consider him my nephew as much as he considers Sansa and Arya cousins. To Jon, they will always be his siblings.”

A mollified smile tugged at Jaime’s lips. “Will you make it known to the realm? Your new lineage that is?”

“No, I think not. Being able to ride Drogon was necessary to save Tarth, but beyond that, I’m a Lannister. I don’t know how to be anything else. It has taken me this long just to figure out how to survive in one House. I don’t need to figure out how to deal with another.”

Jaime snorted at Tyrion’s words and looked to the fire before them. “I still can’t believe you rode on the back of a dragon.”

“You’re telling me. I was horrified. Nothing like I thought it would be after reading all those books as a boy. The damn thing almost got us killed.”

A look of concern flitted across Jaime’s face. “What? What do you mean that beast almost got you killed?”

With a deep sigh, Tyrion looked the fire. He glanced at his wine cup and thought back on the events of the last few days. It had been simultaneously exhilarating and frightening to be commanding the massive animal beneath him.

Tyrion and Jon rode through the day and much of the night to get to Tarth in time. They stopped only once to rest for the night and allow the dragons find small livestock to feast on.

On the second day, they arrived at Tarth. Euron’s fleet and accompanying forces from the Golden Company were just approaching the island. Small dots lined the docks and shores. Upon closer inspection, it occurred to Tyrion that those dots were Tarth’s soldiers.

Jon and Tyrion moved against the fleet. They made two passes through the fleet with ease. It was on the third pass that Tyrion thought himself a dead man. A massive arrow came hurtling at his head. The tip caught the edge of Drogon’s left wing and a shrill cry pushed past the dragon’s jaws.

On instinct, the beast turned right and began ignoring Tyrion’s imploring commands. Another arrow flew at them and cut through Drogon’s neck. Blood splattered on Tyrion’s face and chest as he tried to direct the beast to safety.

Tyrion noted a third ship lining up a giant crossbow and was able to get control of Drogon in time with the valyrian he knew. They barely dodged the third arrow and made it out of harm’s way.

Thankfully, Jon observed what was happening and evaded any arrows himself. Drogon circled around and came to land on one of Tarth’s cliffs. Inspecting the animal, Tyrion could see that the wound was mostly superficial. It bled aggressively but wasn’t too deep. The dragon would live.

Watching from the cliff, Tyrion could see Jon attacking from the rear of the ships. Euron’s men weren’t fast enough for the king nor his dragon. Soon, the entire fleet was ablaze. Soldiers jumped into the water, attempting to flee the flame engulfed ships.

Most of the enemy likely drowned at sea as their boats sank to the ocean floor, but several including Euron made it to land. Selwyn and his men took any survivors as prisoner and deferred to Jon on how to handle the matter.

Jon saw to it that Euron was beheaded before leaving. The rest of the men were largely sellswords and sent back to Essos. The handful of Greyjoys were given an option by Jon. Bend the knee or face his blade. They chose to bend.

They spent the night with Lord Tarth and explained everything to him. The man seemed unmoored by the tales. He went through more wine during that evening’s supper than Tyrion had consumed in a year. While he was happy to hear that his daughter was alive, he worried after her health.

The following day when Jon and Tyrion were to depart, the older lord asked to accompany them. He wished to see his daughter and, if she would allow it, bring her home; wherever that may be. Tyrion was unable to tell Selwyn where Brienne’s idea of home was, but he was happy to honor the man’s request.

Tyrion conveyed the story to Jaime and watched as his brother’s face contorted in horror.

“I knew those beasts were unsafe. You shouldn’t get back on it! You should ride a lion instead.”

“Says the man who charged at a dragon with a spear!” Tyrion glared at Jaime and they agreed to drop the matter before it dissolved into an argument.

Tyrion swirled his wine cup in hand. He watched as the firelight danced on the top of the liquid. Looking to Jaime, his brows furrowed. “Where will you go? I don’t imagine you’ll wish to stay here and trail your lady knight around in the snow.”

Jaime’s face scrunched in distaste. “I hate the bloody North. I hate this castle. I hate that stupid fucking tower. I never want to see it again. I don’t know where we’ll go through. Brienne and I have hardly had a chance to discuss everything before she was thrown from the battlements by our cunt of a sister.”

Offering a consoling hand to Jaime’s shoulder, Tyrion smiled and raised a brow. “Well your betrothed’s injuries are hardly minor. I do imagine you’ll be stuck in this castle, looking at that stupid fucking tower, for some weeks to come.”

“Don’t remind me. And now her father intends to stay it seems. Great…”

Tyrion bit back a laugh and cocked his head slightly. “It is quite early in your relationship with your goodfather to take issue with him.”

Jaime rubbed at his face and leaned forward in his chair. His words came out bitter. “Lady Sansa yelled at me today. Told me to behave myself; especially since her father is here. No more staying in Brienne’s recovery room.”

Tyrion could no longer hold back the laughter pushing past his lips “So you’re upset that Lady Sansa requested that you keep it in your pants for the next moon or so?”

“Well, it isn’t as though I was trying anything. I just... I want to be in the room with her. What if she needs something!?”

With a loud sigh, Tyrion offered a sympathetic glance at Jaime. “I’ll talk to Sansa. I’m certain we can figure something out to ensure Brienne has physical _and_ emotional support while maintaining propriety.”

Jaime responded with an appreciative smile before standing from his seat. “Well I better go visit Brienne before I’m cast out for the night.”

Standing from his chair, Jaime began to walk out from the hall. Tyrion took a sip of his wine and looked back to the flames. Jaime’s voice filled the hall and caught Tyrion by surprise.

“And brother, you’re possibly my best friend too. Try not to die again.”

**Jaime**

Moving quickly through the halls, Jaime felt a smile tug at his lips. The mere thought of seeing Brienne made him giddy with excitement. He had never felt this way before; an all consuming need to be near someone. It was comical now to think on his relationship with Cersei. He knew it was never love. Not as this was.

Arriving at the room, Jaime knocked lightly and opened the door. The room was well lit, and he slipped inside with a wide smile on his face. He was surprised to find Lord Tarth in the chair beside Brienne’s bed.

“Oh, sorry. I can come back on the morrow.” Jaime felt his spirits fall as he moved to exit the room.

“No, I’m leaving in a moment. Stay. I should like to properly meet my future goodson anyway.” Selwyn’s voice was not an offer to stay. It was a command.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime shut the door and moved to the opposite side of the bed. He pulled up a chair and took Brienne’s hand in his. Brienne’s hand was warm and soft despite the callouses lining her palm from years of swordplay.

Selwyn huffed a laugh and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you. First from Jon and Tyrion, and now from my daughter. I feel as though I know you better than my daughter at this point.”

“I hope they did not downplay how handsome I am.” Jaime spoke in a teasing lilt. From the bed, Brienne snorted and shook her head. “Ridiculous.”

For a moment, Jaime forgot that Selwyn was present. His eyes locked on Brienne and everything else faded away. It still felt surreal seeing Brienne alive and smiling, when just days prior he was holding her broken body down as she nearly died in his arms. A cruel twist of fate.

_It is her arms that I’m meant to die in._

From across the bed, Jaime could hear Selwyn mutter. “Is he always like this?”

“I’m afraid so.” Brienne replied dryly, but Jaime could see a smile tugging at her lips.

Selwyn looked questioningly to Jaime. “So. You pair are betrothed and homeless. I don’t imagine you’ll be living in King’s Landing nor do I imagine Brienne will stay here. Where will you go?”

Jamie hardly knew what to say, but before he could stumble towards an answer, Brienne spoke up. “Father, honestly. I only just awoke, and we haven’t discussed such things. It’s hardly important right now. I couldn’t leave this stupid bed if I tried.”

“Well I should like to know where I’ll be escorting you to.”

Brienne scoffed and shook her head. “Escorting me? Jaime’s entire army is here. I assure you that we can manage.”

Jaime cleared his throat and spoke more to himself than Brienne or Selwyn. “I was thinking Tarth.”

Both Tarths looked to him in shock. Brienne chuckled and looked to the ceiling. “You’re heir to Casterly Rock.”

Jaime shrugged and replied quickly. “You’re heir to Tarth. Unlike you, I have more cousin named Lannister than I care to count. I never much cared for the Rock. King’s Landing has been my home for much of my life.”

Brienne sighed and shook her head. “We don’t need to make any decisions now.”

“I can name a castellan. The Rock only cares if the ruling name is Lannister. I doubt they’ll concern themselves if I’m lazing about on an island somewhere. And… mayhap if we have some babes… we can give them one to play Lord or Lady of the Rock. Preferably the least favorite. Tarth can keep the best of the lot.”

Jaime looked at Brienne and saw the surprise writ across her face. Risking a glance at Selwyn, Jaime could see the hopeful glee on Selwyn’s face as he stared at his daughter.

Brienne seemed conflicted and her face scrunched. “Jaime. You would be giving up a lot for me. Tarth is not a Great House such as yours.”

Jaime snorted. “I would hardly call my House great. I’m quite hoping that by associating with you, that will come to change.”

The words came out bitter on Jaime’s tongue. Being a Lannister was once Jaime’s source of pride and arrogance. Between the actions of his father and sister, it became his shame.

_Mayhap I’m being too unkind to my House. I quite like most of my cousins and my aunt. Even still, being a Tarth seems far more honorable._

Lost in thought, Jaime hardly noticed Brienne staring at him. Her hand squeezed his to get his attention. When he looked to her, Jaime could see the worry settling across her face.

“You held a funeral for your sister today. I’m sure that was difficult. There is no need to make any of these decisions now.”

Selwyn stood from his chair and placed a large hand on Brienne’s shoulder. “You two should talk. I’m quite tired. Travel by dragon is not as comfortable as one might expect. Also, this one’s brother wouldn’t shut up the entire way.”

Jaime smiled at the mention of Tyrion. Tyrion was always the talker of the family. Companionable silence was not something he willingly afforded. Selwyn bid his goodnights and left the room.

At the long-awaited privacy, Jaime moved around the bed to Brienne’s uninjured side and climbed in. She chuckled as he stretched out against her. “Finally. I’ve been dealing with Starks and Targaryens all day.”

“How horrible for you.” Brienne’s sarcastic tone elicited a smile from Jaime. Leaning on his left side, Jaime surged forward to capture her lips.

“Your lady scolded me. She told me that I am to behave and not dishonor you with your father in the castle. She won’t let me stay in here.”

Brienne sighed and leaned back against her pillow. “Little late for the good behavior bit now.”

“Brienne?”

Brienne hummed and met his eyes. A curious expression tugged at her features.

“Do you want to go to Tarth?”

Brienne looked back to the ceiling and sighed. She contemplated the question before speaking. “I miss Tarth, but I’m content to go where you are. Sansa came by earlier. She said that I had more than fulfilled my oath, and she wanted to see me live for myself when healed. Whatever that means.”

“I think that means you’re meant to stay in bed with me all day on Tarth while your father does the hard work around the island.”

Brienne snorted at his remark and shook her head. “You shouldn’t say all those things in front of him. You’ll get his hopes up.”

“I meant it. I want you, not the Rock. As a member of the Kingsguard, I spent most of my life expecting to have no claim to the Rock. I gave it all up so that I could be near that hateful woman. I wish I had left sooner. We could have had at least six babes by now.”

“Six!?”

“I’m sure there would have been a set of twins or two in there somewhere.” Jaime’s voice was teasing, but inwardly he longed to have a family with Brienne.

He looked to her face and saw the uncertainty there. “Do you want babes, Brienne?”

“I always did when I was younger. Before I realized it wasn’t an _option_.”

Jaime understood her meaning. He had been one of those fools to mock her womanhood and use cruel words to cut at her.

“I would like to have babes with you. Little knights for Tarth and the West.” Jaime saw the protest forming at his words. Leaning in, he silenced her with another kiss. The thought of making babes with Brienne went straight to his cock. It was painful not being able to bed her, but her health was more important than his cock.

Pulling back from the kiss, Jaime searched Brienne’s eyes. She smiled and shrugged slightly. “I suppose the making them bit won’t be so bad.”

A light chuckle pushed past Jaime’s lips. “Oh, well as long as you’re not too put out by it. Now you just need to heal and marry me so that Sansa will get off my ass. She is very scary. Her and that creepy one who looks as though she wants to carve my face off.”

“Arya, and yes, she might wish to. Don’t give her any ideas. I’ve seen her collection.”


	19. Wedding Plans and a Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa thinks back on the past three weeks as she prepares to host a wedding. A special guest arrives just in time.

**Sansa**

Three weeks had passed since Jon and Tyrion returned to the North with Lord Selwyn. Three weeks since the West bent the knee to Jon. Three weeks since Sansa began her nightly routine of pushing Jaime out of Brienne’s recovery bed.

The man was incorrigible, and she was growing tired of his nightly excuses for why he ‘accidentally fell asleep’ in Brienne’s bed. Sansa had to give him credit, he was at least creative.

“She needed tea.” “She needed a scalp massage.” “Her right side was cold.” “Her room had too much grey.” _What does that even mean?_

Sansa was beginning to think this a great game to them. Jaime would pretend at his falling asleep being an accident. Brienne would laugh until tears fell at his antics as Sansa swatted him out of the room.

_Good luck to Selwyn with these two._

Jaime and Brienne had decided to go to Tarth when Brienne was healed. Jaime wrote his kin informing them of everything that had happened in the North and that King Aegon was now ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

Jon insisted on seeing Jaime named Lord of the Rock and Warden of the West, even if he was living on Tarth. The Rock would pass to any children that Jaime and Brienne had. In part, Jon had little trust for anyone else bearing the Lannister name. Jon knew Jaime and had come to trust him.

The only other Lannister Jon knew was Tyrion, who would be Hand, so the prospect of an unknown Lannister ruling the West unnerved Jon. Sansa understood. Before they died, Sansa had met Kevan and Lancel in King’s Landing and both seemed like proper shits.

The only Lannister that Tyrion recommended could rule the Rock effectively was his aunt, Genna Frey. Of course, as a Frey, the Stark siblings immediately turned that idea down. So, Jaime it was.

Night after night, Sansa listened as Tyrion and Jaime ran through a potential list of castellans; each prospect worse than the last. Jaime named his friend, Addam, commander of the Lannister army in his stead. His men seemed more than pleased at the decision and Addam was eager to step into the role.

Bronn volunteered himself as castellan which seemed as comical to the Lannister brothers as Bronn’s other suggestion. Naming him Lord of Highgarden. When at last Bronn came to accept that he would not be receiving a castle, the crass sellsword decided that he would go to Tarth and act as a glorified bodyguard of sorts to Jaime.

Sansa thought it was amusing to watch as Tyrion picked apart Bronn’s true intentions. Bronn likely wanted to live on a beautiful island. Bronn likely wanted to experience the myriad of ladies passing through from Essos. Bronn likely wanted a friend.

Bronn had scoffed at Tyrion’s last accusation, but Sansa could see the truth in it. As much as Bronn refused to admit it, he cared for Jaime. It was evident in the stories the men told and how Bronn worried over Jaime as Addam did when Brienne nearly died.

The rest of the West lingered in the North, not to escort their Lord and Lady home, but for Jaime’s wedding. Sansa insisted on a wedding at Winterfell. Her argument had been sound; Jaime’s men were already there as was Selwyn. Given how fond Jaime’s army had grown of Brienne during the Long Night, Sansa knew that they wished to see their Lord wed his love.

Secretly, Sansa wanted to see her friends marry. Yes, she had even come to accept that Jaime had wormed his way into her heart. It was annoying and she didn’t want him there, but it was too late. He was as embedded there as Brienne was.

Sansa worked to make wedding cloaks for the pair of knights. She could hardly suppress the groans of irritation as she worked with the crimson and gold fabric.

_Annoying Lannisters._

The knights would be married in the small Sept that Sansa’s father had constructed for her mother many years ago. Jaime found the situation far too amusing for Sansa’s taste. He told endless japes about how ‘pleased’ Ned would be to have Jaime enjoying Winterfell’s amenities.

Sansa had also been hard at work on wedding attire for Brienne. Brienne was not a woman who would appreciate a dress nor excessive decoration. That is how the idea came to Sansa.

The West would no doubt be in there crimson and gold; ever the proud lions. Brienne only had her father in attendance, so the North would play the part of Tarth.

Sansa worked with Lord Selwyn to understand Tarth’s colors and style. She would paint the North in blue. A show of solidarity for their favorite and most treasured knight.

And just because it was Brienne, Sansa would don breeches, a tunic, and jerkin for the occasion. Of course, it would need to have feminine cuts, but Sansa would happily do so to amuse her friend. Arya was most pleased at this decision.

Sansa slipped into Brienne’s room and watched as Brienne and Jaime squabbled over her bandages. They were standing near the corner table with Brienne’s tunic raised just enough for Jaime to tend to the wrappings.

“Just don’t touch it! You’re making it worse.”

Jaime huffed a laugh and ignored her. “I think I know how to wrap some bandages. I’m practically a maester.”

_Oh gods. Not again._

Brienne had been moving around for just shy of a fortnight now. The maester was pleased with her progress and though she was still not cleared to spar, Brienne was otherwise back to her usual routines. Severe headaches still plagued Brienne, but the painful looking bump on her head had gone down.

“Ser Brienne, is this man annoying you again?”

Both knights stopped to look towards Sansa as she stood in the doorway. A teasing smile tugged at Brienne’s lips.

“Always. He is always annoying me.”

Sansa walked over and batted Jaime’s hand out of the way. Quickly repositioning Brienne’s bandages, Sansa pinned them in place and looked challengingly to Jaime. “There. Fixed.”

Jaime huffed before flopping down dramatically into the chair. He looked to Brienne and pouted like a scolded child. “Fine. I suppose I’m just better at takings things _off_ your body.”

Neither Brienne nor Sansa appreciated his jape. It was Sansa who reprimanded him first. “That is really not very decent of you!”

“Is there anything about me that you would consider decent?”

Sansa snorted and cast a sympathetic eye at Brienne. “I’ll pray for you daily.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll need it.”

The knights squabbled like an old, married couple. Jaime would needle Brienne to the point of madness. Brienne would scowl at him before telling him off. There banter was never vicious, and Sansa could tell that they quite enjoyed having a go at one another.

Turning her attention back to Jaime, Sansa narrowed her eyes. “You have a visitor in the hall.”

An incredulous look lined Jaime’s features at the announcement. “A visitor? Who? Why? I don’t want any visitors. Can’t you send them away.”

“Do I look like your personal attendant?”

With an exaggerated grunt, Jaime stood up to leave the room. Sansa turned to follow him before looking back at Brienne expectantly. Sansa raised a brow and gestured to her sworn sword. “Are you coming along?”

“I’ll be down shortly. My father wanted to speak with me.” Brienne sounded exhausted and Sansa worried that she had been pushing herself too hard the past few days. She rarely took the time to stop moving and rest. Brienne seemed restless and eager to pick up the sword.

With a smile of understanding, Sansa left the room and caught up with Jaime. “You need to ensure she rests more regularly.”

The returning look from Jaime suggested he had conveyed just that on multiple occasions. “Mayhap you would have better luck. I don’t imagine she would beat you over the head with whatever object she could reach.”

Walking into the hall, Sansa saw Jaime stop in his tracks when his eyes landed on his visitor. The small group of officers from the West and Tyrion stood next to a rather unamused looking, stout woman in crimson and gold.

“Aunt Genna. What are you doing here?”

**Jaime**

Genna stalked over to Jaime with a vexed expression on her face. Without a word, she began hitting Jaime as hard as she could in the arm.

Jaime flinched away as Genna grabbed at his ear. “Ow! Why!?”

“How dare you, Jaime Lannister! Getting married without inviting me!”

_Oh seven hells._

Jaime glanced to Tyrion, who looked far too amused at Jaime’s abuse at the hands of their aunt. Addam and Bronn laughed happily as Genna continued to berate Jaime.

“I have to hear that you’re betrothed from Tyrion!? Then I have to find out that you’re getting married at Winterfell without inviting me!?”

Jaime threw up his arms in defeat and tried to plead with his aunt. “I can explain! Just wait… stop hitting me for a moment.” With a frustrated sigh, Genna stopped her torrent of blows and glared at Jaime expectantly.

“It’s all her fault.” Jaime pointed an accusing finger at Sansa who scoffed in reply.

“Me!? Don’t you dare put this on me!” Sansa gave Jaime a good swat of her own.

_Gods damnit! Why am I cursed with these violent women?_

Jaime gaped as Genna looked to Sansa approvingly.

_Truly? My own aunt turns on me?_

“Good! Put his intolerable ass in his place.” Genna turned back to Jaime with her finger in his face. “Don’t you ever do this to me again! I had not time to prepare for this. Gods, I had to sleep in taverns on the way here! Taverns with… common people!”

Jaime had to cover the laugh spilling past his lips. Genna was his favorite family member save Tyrion. She practically raised him when his mother passed and Genna loved him dearly. Though she was fiercely protective and loyal to their House, she was not cruel as Tywin and Cersei had been.

A force of a woman, Genna was intelligent and commanding. No doubt, she would have overrun any wedding planning had she been given more notice.

That said, Genna’s fondness for inns and taverns was greatly lacking. She rarely traveled and when she did, she packed as though her destination was to be her new residence.

“You mock me now!?”

“I would never. Come on now Aunt Genna, how about a hug?” Jaime extended his arms while still chuckling at her annoyed expression.

“You will not hug your way out of this Jaime!”

Unable to control his laughter, Jaime tried to win her over with jest. “But I’m very cute. You can’t stay mad at me. Besides, you’re here now. Tyrion sorted it out.”

“Tyrion! Tyrion who killed my brother and then took off across the sea.”

Jaime grimaced at the words and looked to Tyrion. His younger brother rolled his eyes as though reliving an argument for the hundredth time over. Jaime knew that Tyrion and Genna had been in contact for some moons now.

Despite her anger at Tywin’s death, she was forgiving with Tyrion just as Jaime had been. Genna knew what Tyrion endured at the hands of Tywin.

“In fairness to me, Jaime was an accomplice. He let me out.” Tyrion spoke in a defensive tone and sipped his wine as he kept his distance.

Jaime scoffed at the accusation and threw up his arm in frustration. “So is everyone to blame me for everything now?”

“Yes!” Tyrion, Genna, and Sansa yelled at the same time.

 _Truly? Even mini Catelyn Stark here has turned on me_.

With a heavy sigh, Genna looked to Jaime and tilted her head. “Alright now. I’ve said my peace. Come give me a hug before I have one of the men stab you.”

Genna’s arms extended as Jaime stepped into a hug. She could never stay mad at him for long, and no doubt would quickly move to some other topic to rant about. Sure enough, the next complaint immediately followed.

“Now why haven’t I met her!? Is this the one I’ve heard stories about?” At Genna’s words, Jaime cast a knowing look at Addam and Bronn. They no doubt spun tales around the camp at Riverrun. Brienne was the only woman he ever spoke of, so it was likely that Genna’s information was not far off.

“She is my sworn sword.” Sansa spoke confidently and challengingly at Genna’s side. It was evident that the she was trying to convey the implications of Jaime’s and Brienne’s love. They stood across enemy lines for nearly the entirety of their acquaintance.

A knowing smile tugged at Genna’s lips. “Ah, the opposition to Cersei’s mad reign. A warrior woman at that. Why am I not surprised?”

The look of shock on Sansa’s face when Genna said ‘Cersei’s mad reign’, was not lost on Jaime.

_Yes, mini Catelyn. Even my aunt thought Cersei a madwoman._

Genna’s eyes dropped to his maimed arm. A knowing brow raised as she looked back to his eyes. “ _Those_ stories are true then. It was for her?”

With a sigh, Jaime met Genna’s eyes and shrugged. “I hardly know what nonsense you’ve been hearing. I’ve been rather busy.”

“Too busy to write your favorite Lannister!?”

“Second favorite, thank you.” Tyrion piped up from the background and earned a glare from Genna.

“I wrote to tell you of the war! And the new king!” Jaime sounded like a parent attempting to placate an inconsolable child.

“Yet not of your betrothed?” Genna quirked a brow at Jaime and sighed. “So, where is she?”

In truth, Jaime had been upset at the prospect of not having Genna present for his wedding. Everything happened so fast and it had not occurred to Jaime that Genna would make the journey north. Jaime assumed that in time, he and Brienne could have a vow renewal with Genna present. Having Genna at Winterfell now was infinitely better, but he had certainly earned his aunt’s ire.

“She is with her father.”

“Oh, so even her father got an invite!”

Jaime grumbled in annoyance and explained the situation. Despite his attempt to pacify Genna, she was still miffed. Jaime led his aunt towards Selwyn’s room. They spoke idly along the way, and Genna made it clear that they would have words later regarding Cersei’s _unfortunate_ death.

As the door swung open to reveal the Tarths, Jaime smiled and began to introduce his aunt. “Sorry for disturbing you, but my aunt has just…”

With a grunt, Genna elbowed Jaime out of the way and smiled before Selwyn. “I’m Lady Genna Frey. My husband insists I go by the name, but I much prefer Genna _Lannister_. I’m this one’s aunt and voice of reason.”

Selwyn snorted and bowed his head. “Lady Genna, I’m Selwyn Tarth. I go by Selwyn Tarth. Please, come in.”

Jaime’s eyes flitted to Brienne who had a bemused expression on her face. She stood from her seat and bowed to Genna. “Hello, Lady Genna. I’m Brienne.”

“Ser Brienne. She’s a knight.” Jaime beamed at Brienne from over Genna’s shoulder. It was the title she earned, but that Jaime had the honor to bestow upon her.

Genna swatted him hard in the chest. “Oh do shut up, boy. Of course she’s a knight. Look at her! Fantastic!” Genna smiled widely before stepping forward and grabbing Brienne’s face in her hands. “Oh, yes. You’ll do just fine. Perfect for Jaime.”

“Oh Gods.” Jaime grumbled at Genna’s back and mouthed an apology to Brienne.

Before Brienne could muster a reply, Genna turned towards Selwyn and Jaime. “So… who is in charge of this wedding? I have many questions that need answering.”

Jaime stumbled to reply, but Selwyn came to his rescue. “The Lady of Winterfell has done much of the planning. I know a bit of it. These two have been relatively useless in the process.”

Jaime snorted and raised a brow at Brienne. His tone filled with mirth as he replied to Selwyn.

“In fairness, my betrothed has been focused on recovering from life-threatening injuries over the past three weeks.”

Genna waved a dismissive hand to silence Jaime. “No matter, child. I have little need for you right now. Lord Selwyn, lets you and I meet with this Stark girl. We have some matters to sort out.”

Taking Lord Selwyn by the arm, the much smaller Genna yanked him from the room. Selwyn’s eyes were a desperate please for aid and Jaime could offer little more than a smile. He knew that trying to avoid the incoming storm that was Genna, always proved a lost cause.

Turning back to Brienne with a mischievous smile, Jaime took a step forward. “My aunt will be ordering them about for hours. Whatever will we do with our newfound freedom?”


	20. In Your Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding at Winterfell and it is a sea of blue.

**Brienne**

Brienne sat before the fireplace in her room as Sansa finished doing whatever it was to her hair that needed doing. All Brienne knew, was that her hair was not pushed back aggressively in its usual style. Sansa had parted Brienne’s hair at the left and pulled it across so that the strands fell loosely at her right cheek.

“Oh yes. This is much better. Much softer.” Sansa spoke more to herself than Brienne as she went.

_Softer? I don’t need softer. I need functional._

“How will I see? Won’t it fall in my face?”

Sansa scoffed and placed two dainty hands on Brienne’s shoulders; drawing the knight’s eyes to her face. “This is your wedding. Not a melee. Just humor me.”

The young Stark was dressed in the colors of Tarth and, for the first time in Brienne’s acquaintance, Sansa was wearing breeches. It was both comical and incredibly touching.

Sansa had also made Brienne’s wedding attire. The young woman brought Brienne tight fitted dark grey breeches like the color her father so often wore. A tightly fitted, rose-color tunic was underneath a deep sapphire jerkin. The jerkin was cloth and fitted differently than any jerkin Brienne had previously owned.

The jerkins Brienne had managed to acquire over the years were fitted to a male’s body with broader shoulders and a narrowed waist. Sansa made the jerkin to fit Brienne’s lean body and subtle feminine curves. While Brienne would never have the curves nor full bosom of women at court, she had a long, lean torso with wider hips than a male jerkin afforded.

This jerkin played to her contours and reached knee length. The Tarth sigil was embroidered over the left breast and the neckline of the both the tunic and jerkin dipped low in a V-shape. Once Sansa deemed Brienne’s hair acceptable, Brienne stood up and strapped Oathkeeper to her waist.

The action earned a sigh from Sansa, but the young woman knew it was bound to happen. Arya however approved of Brienne’s decision to arm herself for her own wedding. “Now you look decent. It was all going to shit before.”

The youngest Stark smiled teasingly at Brienne as she took appraisal of the knight’s attire. Both Stark sisters wore the colors of Tarth; a touching nod to Brienne’s linage.

_They are my chosen family. They will represent my island among a sea of boastful lions._

Unexpectedly, Sansa reached into her pocket with a solemn expression on her face. She looked to Brienne with misty eyes and forced a smile. “This was my mother’s chain. I found it among her things when I reclaimed my ancestral home. I hope you don’t mind, but I added a special pendant to it.”

Taking the necklace from Sansa, Brienne could see Pod’s pendant attached. Her young squire always wore his family’s sigil on a chain and pendant beneath his jerkin. Brienne did not have the mind to remove it before his body was burned, but it seemed Sansa thought to.

“I thought… he should be with you today. Next to your knighting, I think this would have been a most important day that he got to share with you. After all, Ser Jaime sent him off with you. It seems fitting. You were like your own little family, I suppose.”

Sansa’s voice broke slightly as she explained her actions, but Brienne’s mind was consumed with Pod. Her sweet squire who became an incredible young man. Pod fought as she taught him and died protecting their queen.

A light knock at the door cut through the heaviness of the moment. Arya moved to open the door and Brienne stared into the face of her father. One look at her and he was done for. Selwyn sniffled and blamed the room for being too smoky on account of the fire, but she knew the look. She had seen it before in the vision Bran showed her.

Arya and Sansa offered a parting smile as they made their way to the Sept, leaving Brienne and her father in the small room.

“Look at you. Gods, I can’t believe it.” The older lord appraised her and smiled widely.

“That makes two of us. I just assumed…” Brienne stopped herself. Now was not the time to dwell on past hurts and low expectations for friendship and love.

Swallowing down her comment, Brienne offered a small smile. She fastened the necklace that Sansa gave her and played with the pendant. The dancing firelight caught the gold pendant, making it sparkle as Pod’s eyes used to.

Eyeing her warily, Selwyn cupped Brienne’s face. “I hope you don’t feel that you need to do this. I’m proud of you regardless of your marital status.”

The earnest remark caught Brienne by surprise. “I don’t feel that I need to do this. I want to do this, but only because it is with Jaime.”

With a hum, Selwyn nodded and draped the maiden’s cloak over her shoulders. Sansa had done a beautiful job on the cloak, and Brienne could not thank her enough for the incredible effort to make the day special.

Selwyn smiled and offered his arm. “Well, lets go get your lion then.”

The distance to the Sept was short, but it felt an eternity. Brienne could feel her heart hammering in her throat. She wasn’t nervous about marrying Jaime. She was nervous about the focus being on her.

Brienne had little desire to stand out in the crowd. The last feast in the great hall was proof enough of that. She had stood out in her blue jerkin against the darker colors of the North. She wanted to blend in with the group in more ways than one. She didn’t want to be the tall, ugly woman who stood out like a sore thumb.

As they neared the Sept, Brienne saw sprawling lines of Northmen holding candles and dressed in blue. It was a shocking sight to see and took Brienne’s breath away. As she walked by, the men smiled and bowed their heads; small greetings of respect reached her ears. “Ser Brienne.” 

Brienne could feel her father staring at her. As her head turned to meet his, she observed a deep pride shining in his eyes.

_He is proud of me for who I have become. Not the vows I’ll make this night._

At the entrance to the Sept, Northmen standing at each side of the doors pulled them open. Inside the Sept was a sea of blue dwarfing the Lannister colors. Men from the North and Vale were crammed into the small Sept. Their smiles wide and their chests puffed with pride.

As Selwyn led her down the aisle to the front of the Sept, Brienne’s eyes landed on the Stark children in the front row on the left-hand side. Jon had left for King’s Landing with a small group of men, but Arya, Sansa, and Bran remained behind.

Bran would soon be escorted to the capital to serve as the Master of Whisperers, but first he insisted on staying to see ‘what happens after’.

All Stark siblings wore the Tarth colors, but more surprising to see was the rest of the front row’s occupants. Grey Worm, Jhaqo, Tormund, and Missandei, all stood tall wearing Tarth blue and looking proudly to the approaching Tarths.

Grey Worm was to take on the role of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He had remained behind at Winterfell to oversee the Unsullied and Dothraki who continued to aid the reconstruction efforts. Most of the Unsullied and Dothraki elected to remain in Westeros after Daenerys’ fell. They would soon move south and settle in the Crownlands.

To Brienne’s right and in the front row were Genna, Tyrion, Addam, Bronn, and the West’s senior most officers. All were in their crimson and gold except Bronn. Brienne bit back a laugh at the sight of the sellsword.

He looked like Selwyn’s illegitimate son dressed in full Tarth colors. He raised a knowing brow at Brienne and pointed excitedly to the Tarth sigil adorning his jerkin. He mouthed the words. “I’m a Tarth now.”

_Gods help me._

Then Brienne’s eyes landed on Jaime. Her Jaime. Just Jaime.

Jaime looked at Brienne as though there was no one else in the Sept. His eyes played out the story of their love. A hand. A bear. A sword. A squire. A knighting. A kiss. A betrothal.

As Selwyn handed her off to Jaime, Brienne felt the familiar spark when their hands touched. Jaime laced his fingers with hers as they stood shoulder to shoulder before the Septon. He leaned in and whispered teasingly. “I think they like you better than me.”

Brienne hummed and returned his tone. “Well… there are no women like me. Only me.” Jaime snorted loudly which earned a stern look from the Septon. Then the ceremony began.

**Jaime**

The ceremony was a blur. The North created Tarth in a small Sept, but Brienne’s sapphires were all he could see. Jaime distantly remembered their hands being bound. Their words being exchanged. Their first kiss as Lord and Lady Lannister… of Tarth. Brienne made that much very clear. She was a Tarth. Jaime loved her all the more for it.

Sansa put on a wedding feast that made the celebration following the defeat of the Night King look like a funeral. Soldiers from every contingent lined the hall, courtyard, and yards outside the castle walls. There was food as far as the eye could see, singing, dancing, and because it was Sansa’s planning, lemon cakes. Lots and lots of lemon cakes.

Winterfell had done away with grey and black in favor of blue. The Stark banners were temporarily replaced on the outer walls of the castle with the Tarth banners. Jaime couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, but the fact that Sansa had went to such trouble for Brienne warmed his heart.

As Brienne and Jaime sat at the head table eating and drinking, Jaime looked to his aunt and Tyrion who were speaking quietly with one another. They had smiles on their faces and shared a few laughs as the noise level in the hall muted their voices.

Sansa had quite enjoyed Genna’s presence. Initially, she seemed leery of Genna given her connection to the two houses who brought her family the greatest pain. In the brief time Sansa had with Genna, the young Stark took quite a liking to Genna. Jaime mused that they were quite similar in many ways. Smart, political, emotionally strong, and natural leaders.

It caught Jaime by surprise when Sansa had approached him the night prior. “You should ask your aunt to be castellan. She’s probably the only competent Lannister I know… aside from Tyrion.” Her tone was teasing, and Jaime was more than happy to play along.

“Are you questioning the competency of the Warden of the West, Lady Sansa? That sounds like a declaration of war, and I hear the Lord of Casterly Rock is about to add the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms to his ranks. That seems a very dangerous move.”

Sansa had raised a challenging brow and smiled in a way that would make Arya proud. “Careful. They say the best way to defeat your enemy is from within. She will be a Tarth first. A Stark second. A Lannister third.”

Now as Jaime sat beside Brienne at the feast, mini Catelyn Stark made her way towards them. She rounded the table and pulled Brienne’s head firm against her. “I’m going to miss you knocking the dolt men into the dirt.”

Jaime distantly heard the two women speak for some time as Bronn came over to ramble about the looming journey to Tarth. Then Jaime felt someone tug at his arm.

He looked up to see Sansa standing over him. A small smile tugged at her lips and she nodded towards the center of the room. At some point, Addam had escorted Brienne towards the dance floor and was spinning her around.

“Come on then. Show your former goodsister a proper dance. Nothing like that dreadful attempt you did at the last feast.”

Jaime stood and smirked. “I’ll have you know, those were my best moves.”

Leading Sansa to the dance floor, he smirked at the young woman. “So exactly how many seamstresses is Winterfell indebted to? I didn’t know the North even had blue fabric to work with; only that drab grey and black.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Sansa met Jaime’s eyes. “Is that your way of saying you’re impressed? I know you can do it… say something nice.”

“Something nice.”

Sansa’s feigned irritation and looked to Brienne who was dancing with Addam just a few feet away. “You’re truly the worst. I think that is the real reason my mother released you all those years ago. She simply couldn’t tolerate your presence at the camp any longer.”

Jaime chuckled and shook his head. “How horrible of you to think that your mother would punish Ser Brienne in such a way.”

As they moved around the dance floor, Jaime dropped any jest from his words. “Thank you for doing all of this. Especially what you’ve done for Brienne.”

A genuine smile spread across Sansa’s face. “I know you’ll keep her safe and happy. Just… visit. I wish to see Brienne. I suppose you can come along too.”

Jaime nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. That should happen. Bronn will escort us. It will be so much fun…”

“No.”

Jaime continued talking despite her protests. “Bronn really enjoys the _culture_ here in the North…”

“I said no.”

“I mean… we might even recommend he just stay after that first visit. Keep a bit of Tarth in the North.”

“I hate you.”

As the song ended and they came to a stop, Sansa huffed in annoyance, but could not stop the chuckle from pushing past her lips. “You’re truly insufferable. Go dance with your wife. I can’t handle you any longer.”

The hours passed and the feast grew louder. Of course, Bronn decided to have the men start up a rendition of _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_. Jaime made his way through the crowd huddled around his wife and leaned into her ear. “It is too blue in here. My eyes hurt. Can you escort me to our room and save me?”

Jaime could tell that Brienne had enough of the feast herself, and she seemed eager to make an exit. As they tried to exit the hall, Bronn and Addam caught sight of them. “Where ya goin’!? Thought it was ya song!”

With a smirk back at Bronn, Jaime winked. “Sometimes we prefer to enjoy it in private.”

Pulling Brienne through the crowd, Jaime saw Bronn stand on his toes to yell back to him. “Fine then! I will say though, that one’s blonde enough!”

Brienne’s brows furrowed as the stepped into the hallways. “What does that mean?”

Tightening his grip on Brienne’s hand, Jaime smiled and tugged her along. “It means he has been on my ass about you for some time. Very annoying.”

The song followed them down the hallway and to their room. It was as though the entirety of Winterfell was singing _that_ song as loudly as they could. As the door shut behind them, Jaime spun Brienne around and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

They made quick work of their clothing as their lips struggled to remain apart for more than a heartbeat. The temperature in the room seemed to increase tenfold as Jaime guided Brienne backwards to the bed. Jaime had no intention of a quick fuck followed by sleep. He intended to keep his wench awake all night with no threat of anyone walking in and ruining it. No one could take her from him now.

As Jaime kissed down her neck and side, he took pause at her ribs. They were still healing, and the sight of her exposed flesh sent a chill down his spine.

_I almost lost her._

“Jaime?” Brienne’s voice cut through his thoughts. He hadn’t realized how long he had been staring at her ribs. “Are you alright?”

Moving back to her mouth, Jaime pressed his lips to hers before mumbling into her mouth. “You almost died.”

Pulling back her head, Brienne spoke quietly. “But I didn’t. It’s fine.” Her tone attempted to mollify Jaime, but he couldn’t shake the thought.

“It’s not fine. When I came here with the army, I thought I would die in the war. I just… I thought that so long as I died in your arms, keeping you safe, that everything would be alright. Then you nearly died in my arms and it was the worst experience of my life.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed and she ran her hand through Jaime’s hair. Meeting her eyes, Jaime cupped her cheek as he leaned on his maimed arm. “So now I’ve decided we have to die in each other’s arms when we’re old and pathetic. Surrounded by our 50 grandchildren.”

“50!? Gods. That is asking a lot of our two children and their spouses.”

“No wench, you don’t listen. I said twenty children. Not two. You forgot the zero.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and huffed a laugh. “My apologies. I must have forgotten.”

Jaime sighed and feigned irritation. “I knew Bran would neglect to show you all of it, but yes, you did agree. No more talk now. We have a lot of wasted time to make up for. A lot of babes to make.”


End file.
